Heirlooms
by Reevee21
Summary: When two brothers find a mysterious box up in their attic, they discover several odd toys. But not just any old playthings; self-aware characters capable of battle, adventure, and...humorous encounters. Will they be able to keep them intact? secret? amused? Story rated T for various references and dark themes.
1. Introduction

**Hello, people of—AAAAAAAAUUUUUUUGH!  
>(Crashing noises, cracking sound)<br>ARCEUS! THERE AREN'T ANY STEPS OFF THIS PODIUM! I THINK I BROKE SOMETHING!  
>*Five minutes later…*<br>I'm okay, readers…just a broken rib…will someone put some stairs there?!  
>Anyway, it's Reevee21, here with a new SSB fic since I am THE WORST at putting up new stuff!<br>I was just thinking over the age-old let's-put-these-mysteries-in-the-game-for-fanfictions on SSB. Y'know,  
>"Who's Master Hand really?"<br>"How are they all statues and what-not?"  
>"How was the World of Trophies created?"<br>"And how did Crazy Hand come into play? Or Ike? Or Pit? Or any other newcomer, for that matter?!" Remember those? I do.  
>Back in the olden days, when we weren't ranting about some Mary Sue fic taken down years ago or typical OC-into-SB stories (HEY! THAT'S A GREAT NAME FOR THEM! Someone make a note of that!).<strong>

**So I put up this fic to write about Master and Crazy.  
>Just Master and Crazy.<br>Master and Crazy…  
>Oh yea, and a few company impersonators…<br>And the smashers…  
>That makes like, fifty, but whatever. I did not break a rib to lecture you guys on about this. PRESENTING, <strong>**_Heirlooms!_**

* * *

><p><strong>*\****_ Heirlooms _****/*\**

**A SSB Fanfiction by Reevee21  
>DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN SSB. All rights go to their respective owners, including the genius who created this beautiful game in the first place.<strong>

**/*\****_ Introduction _****/*\**

_Forty years ago…_

The soft rocking of the boat was gentle and hypnotizing; if not for the clinking of the metal lamps and creaking of the wooden frame, he would have fallen asleep.

A warm cabin around him didn't help the drowsiness. The fluffed bed at the left side of the cabin longed for someone to sleep in it, the huge, north-facing window showing the night sky in a vain effort to get him to sleep.

But he stayed, sitting at the desk in front of it, surveying his finds.

All the treasures were in a wooden crate about two feet tall, obtained through trading of gold and silver with the carvers of the jungle village they had visited. He was sorting through them now—would this go better as a house decoration or in the showcase? For sale or for keep?

He had a few piles going now. One, on his upper left, was a pile of smaller trinkets better fit for pocket charms. He flicked a stray star with two oval, black eyes back into it.

Another, below it, was a collection of larger characters. They looked plenty fine to the naked eye but they didn't have quite the spark, the memory, the…livelihood as the last one.

The last pile, centered on the right, had exactly twelve figures in it. A fearsome gorilla, a fox-captain, a float-y puffball, a warrior, a red plumber, a sparky mouse, a robotic suit, a friendly dinosaur, a driver, a singer, a green plumber, and a young physic.

Most would look oddly at his idea that they might be something more than figures. He could just tell it; they had a reason to their existence and a story to tell. He couldn't get it out of them yet.

Deciding what to do, he gently shuffled the first two piles back into the crate and slid the lid closed. Separating the twelve, he looked them over closer.

They did not respond.

He observed them more, taking note of key features, trying to shape something of a personality for each.

He could remember a few key notes about each, bringing those memories to mind as he picked up the yellow mouse by its small, yellow-furred scruff and placed it gently in his other palm. It was nice in the way they all fit so perfectly; even the largest could be tucked into his hand.

Back to the mouse. He could see that it had a lightning-suggesting tail and brown stripes on its chubby back. Red cheeks dotted its face below plain, obvious eyes. He lifted it by the tail, the rest of the body dangling limply, in an effort to look for some sort of logo or trademark. After searching along it, he saw it; a small circle with a smaller circle along its halfway line.

Curious, he set the mouse down and reached for the gorilla instead. Its brown fur stopped at the skin, a few stubborn hairs going further. It didn't bother the very palm of the foot, and he saw a different symbol; a D and K right next to each other.

He could only remember going to one trader for these twelve. Surely he would use a single marking…?

Checking each one, he saw that only a few had the same symbol—the two plumbers shared a mushroom cap sign, mouse and spherical fluff ball both having the odd circle.

As he was setting the physic down, he noticed the red plumber had vanished. The man panicked slightly—that was the most expensive one!

Was he right about this 'spark' idea after all? Had this figure left to cause him harm?

He looked over the table and shifted through the crate's valuables before finally kneeling down and finding it on the floor.

He breathed in relief before mentally scolding himself. Now that he found it, he remembered that it was rather close to the edge earlier. And what if it had broken on the way down?

Disappointment hit him as he realized the spark idea was a goose chase after all.

Collecting the twelve, he set them inside a separate box. This one was of polished wood, with his family's symbol on the front side. It was entrusted to him to be filled with precious objects.

Its duty was fulfilled as the lid locked and it was placed cautiously back upon the shelf. Looking out the ocean cabin, the man saw that it was very late indeed.

The rocking eased him into sleep, lamps unlit and creaking subsided with a few shoves on the wall.

But no one was there to hear the lid click against the wood. To hear the vain attempts of the last spark alive, to hear it fall silent as that spark of creativity died.

* * *

><p><strong>Mm. Dramatic.<br>I'll give extra nerd points to whoever can name all of the first SSB roster without looking!  
>Thanks for reading, everybody! Be sure to leave a review, follow, and favorite on your way out! Hug your Eevee, everybody, I'll see you on the first chapter!<strong>


	2. Chapter One: A Gift

**/*\ ****_Chapter One: A Gift _****/*\**

_Forty years later—post-smash era_ **(About this part here: it's a little extra I put at the beginning of each arch to show which game I'm writing about. I don't think you'll be needing it, though...)**

"Go on, open it!"

"I'm a bit afraid to, with you asking me so much."

"I promise, I didn't put anything in it this time," the boy pleaded. He was fourteen years old, light black hair ruffled up into its usual, tufted mess. His face was bright and colorful with excitement, dark hazel eyes brimming with impatience. He wore a wrinkled, red shirt with a few scars of past stains still on it and a pair of not-so-dressy, gray pants.

The other teen looked at him with disbelief. He looked older than the other boy, even though they were both the same age. His hair was better-combed, but still defiantly ruffled in a black, furry top. A dark gray, plaid vest covered his green tee whilst black pants spoke their non-caring attitude to the outfit. His face was calmer than the other, masking excitement of what might be in the box.

The box was found in the attic, wrapped in paper, and given to him as a late gift by his brother. The receiver had it in his hands, a box of dark wood with a symbol carved in the top: a circle with two lines crossing in the bottom left corner. A bronze latch, dirty with age, held the box shut.

Finally giving into his brother's pleas, he set the box down on the dining table and flipped open the latch.

Nothing jumped out at him; that was a new one.

Now beyond curious, the boy leaned over to look at the contents. "It's a bunch of toys," he hummed.

"I was thinking you could make a game out of them or something!" the other boy piped, arms crossed.

"So you DID look in the box!" the other accused.

The first gained the expression of a deer in the headlight. "Well, I, uh, I had to make sure it wasn't, you know, tobacco or spices or cigars some other trade thing! "He stammered. "It came from the jungle areas, you know, and I didn't wanna have you doing drugs or what-not—"

"I forgive you, Cress," the second laughed, snapping the box shut and running to the stairs.

Cress brightened and ran after him; after all, Marco only ran upstairs when he was making a game.

When he said 'making a game', he meant creating some version or other of role-play for their younger siblings. Two sisters, to be exact. Not only did the game keep them busy and out of their way, it was apparently fun for Marc to go about, plotting details, writing huge personalities for the smallest of characters, the whole nine yards.

The house echoed their footsteps plainly, as if saying "I know you're running, you know it too, why do I need to tell you?" The empty ceilings called back the clattering of feet anyway.

Their home was a white and gray figure high nestled comfortably in the suburbs of the city. It had two floors, three counting the attic. You would enter on the bottom right side of the room, into an entryway with an office to your right and fancy dinning room to your left. In front of you would be a living room, the upper left corner of the floor being a kitchen, and the stairs stuck between them.

Marco rushed to the second floor via steps near the center of the living room, to the far right corner, through a door and into the empty room. His face mirrored exhilaration; these were the first new things he had in forever!

The room in front of him had ten-foot-high walls, painted blue with clouds pattered near eight feet. From then-onwards was the stars and made-up galaxies that were always so fun to dab on walls. There was even a projector to turn the entire room into a star-studded blanket of black and violet. Seeing as it was on, he flipped it off; however much he loved the night sky, all games started in day.

A few tables were set up here and there, scattered with stuffed animals. His personal desk was at the very back, an intricately painted, rectangular bench.

The first layer of its paint coats, slightly raised, was a rainbow of veins weaved around in a circular shape. Two, gray branches lead off each other to the ends of the table, like a sidewalk going through a plaza. The second layer was an orange web leading off the circle, fading to black with hints of green halfway to the edge. The last was a concrete-designed ring of blue around them all, appearing to be made of puzzle pieces.

Marco slid into the chair, its armrests bumping against the table and knocking over a few pencils. Their lead tips trailed a silver scrawl on the drawing paper nearby, faint notes of their previous presence.

He straightened them back into a cup holder, set the box on the table, and flicked open the lid once more.

By the time Cress had gotten into the room after his hand slipped on the doorknob and sent him sprawling on the floor, Marco had the toys all set up in a lineup. Like a police officer looking through a lineup, he studied them carefully.

"Where did you even find these?" he asked, taking a bipedal reptilian into his palm and looking it closer.

"In the attic," Cress answered, beaming. "It came from our great-great-uncle—the one who went to the Amazon, remember? Mom said he traded metals for them."

"Then why were they in the attic? They look good enough to be on display!" Marco protested, setting the dinosaur down in a standing position. Its legs flopped over uselessly, rubber boots squeaking on the wooden desk as they split and left the owner in a somewhat cute, tilted posture.

"I dunno," Cress answered, staring off into space, "I think he was…actually, I never asked. Maybe he got shipwrecked on the way back?"

"He would have left a note or something," Marco dismissed.

"Okay then," Cress shrugged. "Whaddya gonna do with them?"

"I'm not sure—yet," he added quickly, getting back up. "Are you sure there weren't ANY notes?"

"If there were, they would be in the box," Cress figured, snatching the supposedly empty box and shaking it upside-down. Sure enough, a small note fluttered out, previously sealed to the bottom.

Marco picked it up, flicking off the wax seal so it landed in front of the objects. Cress started giggling madly all of a sudden, Marco looking at him oddly through the corner of his eye. "What's so funny?"

"If you look at it the right way, those toys look like they're going to destroy that seal…"

Marco glanced over, noticing that the toys did all seem to be positioned around the seal. He chuckled a bit at the thought of murdering wax seals before finally unfolding the note and reading it over. His gaze turned confused at the end, brown eyes flirting about the paper once more.

"What's wrong?" Cress asked.

"They came from an Amazonian toymaker," Marco explained, facing the toys once more, "but it doesn't say anything about who he was. How did he stitch the cloth—what kind of cloth is that?"

"Hmm…looks like felt," Cress answered, staring down the green warrior. "All the limbs are stitched on, but you can barely notice it on him…"

"Link."

"What?"

"Link. His name is Link," Marco repeated.

"Who told you?" Cress asked.

"This paper," he answered, "it's got their names and a little 'backstory', if you can call it that. Link's apparently from some country named 'Hyrule', bearer of…a triforce of…courage?" he said, squinting at the lines. "It's in the worst manuscript, goes on about a master sword and fairies—I think."

"Fairies? Fairies," Cress repeated disbelievingly. "Sounds kind of lame…is that the only one?"

Marco flipped the page around before pointing at a short man with a black moustache and trousers. "That's Mario of the mushroom kingdom, a plumber apparently, tasked with saving a 'Princess Peach' when a 'Bowser' kidnaps her."

"Okay, a little better—"

"Then there's Luigi, his brother," Marco continued without a beat, turning his index to a similar character—except taller, with a green hat. "Also a plumber, though a bit of a chicken. There's more, but it's all smudged up. Also, Samus—"

He gestured to a figure clad in an orange and yellow robotic suit with a green visor.

"Fox McCloud."

Both gazes turned to an anthropomorphic fox with a piolet's uniform and holstered blaster.

"Donkey Kong."

To a brown-furred gorilla wearing a red tie with the initials 'DK' stitched in yellow.

"Yoshi."

To the saddled dinosaur Marco had picked up earlier.

"Captain Falcon."

To a muscular figure in a purple bodysuit, yellow scarf draped around his neck and a red helmet shielding his eyes.

"Ness."

To a youthful boy in a yellow-blue striped shirt, denim shorts, and red baseball cap with a baseball bat hanging near his side.

"Kirby."

To a small, pink toy shaped like a ball with two stubby arms and two long, red feet.

"Pikachu."

To a yellow, rodent creature with two brown stripes and bright red cheeks.

"And Jigglypuff."

To another pink figure, this one with smaller feet and large, blue eyes.

Marco folded the paper again, lifting the seal from its stare-down and pressing it on a side instead of the edge. His eyes were shining with inspiration as he looked them over once more—better informed, better inspired.

"Now that we've gone and done a whole introduction…are you going to make a game now?" Cress questioned, curiosity seeped into his voice.

At first, Marco didn't answer. When he opened his mouth to do so, a door shutting downstairs called their attention. "Mark, Cressy, we're home!"

"It's Cress!" said boy shouted back through the hall.

"Not yet," Marco finally answered, "I need a bit of time to...sort my thoughts. Besides, it'll be no fun if Freya and Caitlyn watch me!"

With that response, he placed the parchment back in the box and ran downstairs to greet the sisters. Cress sighed in defeat, turning to the toys. "You guys hang in there…"

He reached down with a fingertip outstretched, gently brushing the top of the gorilla's—Donkey Kong, he reminded himself—head.

He recoiled instantly, with a shout, electricity jutting through his hand. That couldn't have been static, could it? It seemed to powerful.

"Cress?! You alright?!" someone shouted from downstairs

"I-I'm fine!" he lied, clutching his left hand—his writing hand, he noted sadly. Now his homework would look all scribbly! "Just some…static! I'll be right there!"

Shooting the toy a confused, accusing glare, he ran out and shut the door.

The room stayed silent for long moments. Finally, as the last rays of the setting sun clawed long, orange lines in the room and shadows along the wall, a figure shifted.

The casted shadow on the floor-a dark, stretched image of Link-lifted an arm, seemingly trying to grasp the sun's light. If you were looking at the table, you would see the felt figure had turned to face the sun, arm stretched high. His blue eyes were narrowed at the light, the now-metal sword and shield reflecting the light back in blue and silver rays.

Another joined him: Mario.

A third joined them.

A forth.

A fifth.

Before long, all twelve of the once-toys were reaching arms and forelegs towards the light, enjoying the warmth of sunlight for the first time in forty years. Their shadows, twelve united figures plastered on the floor, eventually mixed with those of the walls and tables.

Link put his arm down, now parallel along the horizon. He sighed deeply, reaching up and stretching his limbs.

"It feels good to be in open air," someone else noted through a robotic voice.

"You're not even in open air," another corrected.

"…it's the thought that counts," it stated.

"Pi-kaaaa-chu!" yet another laughed, shaking itself.

"What-a luck," an Italian accent noted at the group, "Were-a all here!"

"Do you think it was the kids?" another new voice asked. "That one—Marcus, was it?—seemed pretty creative to me."

"It was that Chris guy who got the idea of looking in the box," the robot protested.

"Whatever, Samus," it waved away. "Whaddya say we check out this place?"

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, here be the first chapter! I can't wait to see what you do with it, namely because I've been impatient today since it seems like every other author on the face of this site has gone off and done a hiatus. UGH. <strong>


	3. Chapter Two: Smashers

**AHEM, (unrolls scroll of reviews)...wow...only three got the idea? And they're all guests?**

**Yes, PikaLoverNYA, it's good to have nerd points.**

**And these points go to, drumroll pleeeeaaase...  
>Anonymous (guest),<br>Nana (guest),  
>and The Reader (guest)!<strong>

**For those of you wondering about who Freya and Caitlyn are, they are meant to be two Nintendo-associated companies: Game Freak (or GAME FREAK for us Pokefreaks) and Creatures, inc.**

**..Oh, don't worry about it; we can't all be perfect! Now be sure to enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

><p><strong>*\ ****_Chapter Two: Smashers _****/*\**

Marco awoke the next morning to the gentle knocking of raindrops on his window. The sky was dreary and blotted with clouds, the occasional rumble of thunder calling.

He slid out of the sheets and got dressed uneventfully, stepping out to a waking house. Cress walked by him, muttered some primitive version of "good morning", and almost ended up walking into the wall. He took note that Cress' left hand was still bandaged from whatever shock he had—it didn't take many study skills to tell it was more than a static shock that burned him.

It was seven fifteen, exactly ten minutes until the bus arrived, so Marco ran back to the playroom to check if his gifts were still there—paranormal, he knew, but he had plenty of time to look anyway.

The playroom was as gray as the skies, though slightly brighter with the huge window. But when he looked over at the desk, the toys were gone.

"…hey, Cress?!" Marco yelled down the hall. "You didn't do anything with those figures, did you?!" It seemed unjust to call them 'toys' at this point.

"Why would I?!" Cress yelled back from the kitchen. "Last I checked, they were still there!"

"Well they aren't now!" Marco shouted.

"What?"

"They're gone! Only the box is here!"

Cress jogged upstairs to him, jaw nearly hitting the floor. "What?!" he asked disbelievingly. "Did someone steal them?!"

"Freya, did you come in here last night?" Marco called down the hall to said sister. Freya was just then stepping out of her bedroom, woken up by all the noise.

"No, did Caitlyn?" she asked back. Freya was eight years old, her short hair blue-gray in color. Her normal outfit consisted of a silver-blue shirt and denim jeans, a spiral clip pinning back her bangs. Right now, though, she was still red-eyed with sleep and in a wrinkled mess of pajamas.

"I didn't!" Caitlyn answered, startling them all. Caitlyn was Freya's twin, with the same blue-gray hair—albeit in a longer, straighter form. She wore a light blue tank top and black pants with strange, white designs embroidered into the right leg.

"Did a stranger break into the house?!" Cress panicked. "Those were from the AMAZON, for crying out loud!"

"Hey, calm down!" Marco argued. "The windows are intact, there's no other way in here, they were not stolen. Maybe some other…force…moved them."

"What, like an earthquake?"

"I think we would have felt it, Cress…"

"C'mon, let's just get breakfast," Freya groaned, trudging downstairs. "We can worry about them later."

"Alright then," Marco sighed, stealing one last glance into the room before shutting the door hesitantly.

"How 'bout a pop tart to perk you up?" Caitlyn asked, hurrying him along. "Mom said we could eat them on Mondays, remember?"

"How would you FORGET?!" Cress sighed. But, with two of the strawberry-flavor-stuffed pastries in his mouth, it sounded something more like "ow woul yu OGE?!"

"FREYA, CRESS IS SPEAKING POP TART AGAIN!" Marcus moaned.

"He said 'How would you forget?!'" Freya translated boredly. "seriously? I'm the only one who understands that?"

"Yep," Caitlyn and Marco said at once.

Cress rolled his eyes, took a large bite out of one pop tart, and kidnapped his bag. Making way with both bounties of edibility and knowledge, he propped open the door just long enough for the other three to leave.

The bus's hinges squeaked back as they boarded, heading off through the mild drizzle.

Long after they were gone, a small figure darted out from behind the door. It scurried quickly to behind a table leg, four feet padding softly on the wooden floor. It plopped down and let out a deep breath, relieved not to have been seen.

But yet, he was rather curious to where they all went…

The curiosity outbid his caution in the control-of-direction auction and made him run back to the door, only to be sourly disappointed as the gap was too small for him to squeeze under.

So he looked up instead. The shining metal thing of…dark magic that let the door swing back was waaaaaaaaay high up. So high, he was laying on his back to see it.

"Pikachu, what are you doing…?"

**/*\**

Cress was waiting as patiently as he could, but it seemed like the bell had disappeared as well as the figures.

The English teacher droned on about 'prose' and 'poetry' and 'blah bla blah bla blah' (at least, that's what the last part sounded like), not giving so much as a look to the bored class.

On the brink of falling asleep, the flutter of a paper airplane brought him back to life. He unfolded it and read the enclosed note, signed with an 'S.' as always. He looked to the row closest to the wall, focusing on the third chair; sure enough, there was the boy himself.

Sage was fifteen years old, wearing his signature-styled denim jacket and sweatpants—the ones with two stripes down the sides, he noted. The teen pressed his palm to his forehead and dragged it slowly downwards, flattening his dark blue hair once again.

Before Cress could send a paper airplane—crudely folded but (most likely) capable of flight—back to him, the bell finally decided to make an appearance and startled whatever class wasn't waiting for it.

Marco, relieved, unhooked his backpack from the back of the chair and slung it around his arm halfway through the door. The thought of those missing figures (again, too cool to be considered toys) had been biting at the edge of his mind all that day—by now, it was a full-blown flurry of concern.

He had a pretty good idea of their stories now, twenty-four hours after reading the note originally. That was why he made such games in the first place; for stories later on. Freya and Caitlyn would puppeteer the characters whichever way they wanted, helping out in the character-variation department, as well as coming up with odd-ended adventures or sparking referenced conversation.

On one such occasion, Freya had been playing with a large hand puppet—one that led halfway up her arm and designed as a green serpent—when Caitlyn strolled in with another. Freya's was supposedly territorial, thus, their monster battles were born. It was an odd system of health points, power points, 'type' advantages and disadvantages, not to mention the various 'techniques' they had made up specifically for each toy.

Such moves could be as simply-named as 'Water Gun' or 'Copycat'. Others could have detailed, meaningful names such as 'Shadow Sneak' or 'Perish Song'.

"Hey, earth to Marco?! Come in, Marco!"

"Whu—OW!" Marco hissed, slamming the locker door into his face. He turned around to face Cress and Sage looking at him oddly.

"You were uttering stuff again," Cress deadpanned.

"How did I get the locker open in the first place…? Wait, what am I doing?" he asked dully.

"Okay…uttering stuff…being drawn out of la-la-land painfully…questioning life…okay, all that's left is back to reality!" Sage declared, scribbling something on a notepad.

"You make notes of my behavior?" Marco asked.

"Yup," Sage answered, not looking up from writing.

"Face it, bro…you do this daily," Cress said, smiling nervously.

**/*\**

"Where the heck are they?" Marco grumbled angrily.

The setting sun was the backdrop against this age-old scene, titled 'Looking for the Stuff Lost since This Morning'. In it, he was the main character, the figures were the victims, and it was about to close into 'I'll Give Up and Look Tomorrow'.

He wasn't about to let the audience down, though, and kept filtering through the stuff on/under/around/nowhere near the desk.

"Can I help yet? It sounds like some cool stuff!" Caitlyn asked from the doorway.

Marco, while coming up from under his desk, smacked his head painfully on the edge and shouted something vauge in response.

"Does that mean yes?" she asked, stepping in cautiously while he rose and massaged the sore spot on his head.

On her way over, something glinted at the corner of her view and something went running on the fringe of her hearing. She turned to booths' source, a lower table pushed to the far right corner of the room. All she caught that moved was the shadow of a small, tailed creature.

Hoping they didn't have mice, the girl lifted the rudely-shoved piece of scrap paper over the glinting object: a flat piece of metal about half a pointer finger long.

"Oh!" she gasped softly, picking it up as gently as she dared. It wasn't flat, she realized; it was slightly curved inward. The piece was thick enough to withstand a lot of pressure-pressing ways she could think of, though it would be hard to; one side was a sterling silver while the other had a jet-blue color. The silver rim went into the blue at square knob-designs in a pattern while a gold triangle was emblazed near the top. An orange-red, outstretched tribal bird was directly center with another, smaller triangle beneath it.

"I meant no," Marco finally answered after he could speak, ushering her out without seeing the metal. Wanting a little secret of her own, Caitlyn tucked it into her pocket swiftly.

"I'll show you when I have it figured out," he promised, closing the door. "Or if I figure it out," he added softly to himself.

He took status of the room around him now. It was usually clean in the first place, without a game to fill it, but since there wasn't one at the time…it looked like a hurricane had hit it.

"Ughhh…great. They aren't anywhere in here," he sighed.

Grabbing a dustpan hanging by the door, he started to clean—thoughts and room, that is.

The possibilities were very limited to what could have happened to them. The window was shut tight and had been all night, ruling out a break-in or animal crawling in and taking them. Not a chip of glass was in sight, either, if a robbery had commenced and the criminals miraculously replaced the window in time.

"Besides, most of the valuables are still here," he hummed to himself, putting a threesome of what the girls affectionately called 'the legendary dogs' back on a table. One, a pristine blue with two ivory whips extending from it; another, a yellow-furred creature barred with tiger stripes and a purple swath of fur down its back; the third, coated with shaggy, brown fur and white back spikes. And, true to their nickname, all were bipedal and very dog-like.

There might have been a chance that their mother or father had found the chest and bounty, united them again, and sent them off to storage. But they hadn't a clue about what he was asking about when Marco had asked them at dinner, unless they happened to be good liars—which they probably weren't…then again, would he know if they were?

The thought made his head dizzy for a bit—up to the point that he saw a yellow, furred creature run by.

…wait a minute…

"Pikachu?" he asked cautiously. When nothing happened, he stepped back enough to hang the dustpan up again. When it was secured, he darted back to it and peered into the pile of scrap paper it had run into. Kneeling down, he flattened his head next to it.

"Pikachu, was that you? You're alive?" he whispered into it—feeling ridiculously like a kid but doing it anyway.

It didn't respond—well, obviously, it was a toy for crying out loud!

But…toys didn't move, he knew that as a fact. But if they could, if these individuals could, that would explain how they moved away. He knew Pikachu and Jigglypuff would look for cover like the animals they were, but the more human smashers…might have wanted to explore, to check out dangers.

Or even find some fun. Maybe they were all just plain bored.

When he thought that last line, something shifted inside the dark of it. He backed up, not wanting to scare Pikachu back into its hole. Nothing came out, though, so he tried thinking of methods to get it to.

Pikachu was listed as the electric mouse Pokémon in the list; it would probably act, think, and speak like a mouse. But the electric factor made it far more dangerous than a mouse; it could generate varying levels of energy and be struck by lightning bolts without a flinch.

With that in mind, it occurred to him that gloves might be usefull in this situation—

"Why are you getting started on THAT thought? If ya wanna tame a Pikachu, you ought to use some grub."

"What? Who's there?" he gasped, looking around wildly.

"Eh, he'll like your creativity, though," the voice, male with something of an accent to it, "and all that knowledge on Pikachu won't hurt."

"…which one of you is talking? I know it's gotta be you guys, unless I've gone crazy," he said.

"Leave craziness to the other guy. It's me, Fox."

And a certain pilot strolled into view, wearing a defined smirk on his muzzle as he looked up at the gaping Marco.

* * *

><p><strong>FOX WHAT ARE YOU DOING. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU HE MIGHT KILL YOU. FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.<strong>

**Bonus nerd points to whoever guesses Sage! I'll hint: It's another game-company-inspired character!**

**Aaaaaand I leave you on a cliffhanger because I'm a horrible person. I am, however, a good author and will put up the next chapter as soon as its done!**

**Be sure to follow and favorite during that time, leave a review of your thoughts on the way out, and love on those Eevee! Don't forget about the Mr. Saturn, either! …hug a Pikachu for the heck of it! Make like pinkdogtags and SPREAD THE LOVE! I'll see you next chapter! BYE!**


	4. Chapter Three: Gloves

**And, this chapter's bonus nerd points go to, DRUMROLL PLEAAASE...  
>Zetra Emblem-'sup, girlfriend?-,<br>Anonamoose (guest),  
>MissQuestions,<br>and PikaLoverNYA (I LOVE THIS GUY!)!**

**...Oh, what's bonus nerd points? Just a little guessing-game I thought up. Now, ONWARD WITH THE CHAPTER!**

**/*\ ****_Chapter 3: Gloves _****/*\**

Forecast predicted dust showers and previously unknown horrors for poor Cress.

The teen was messing around in the attic, looking for more of the odd toys. He hadn't really been looking for anything in particular when he was up here yesterday, just some random, interesting object to give Marco.

It seemed like an ordinary chest at first. He picked the lock with a stray paperclip, discarded both tools, and peeked it open to lay eyes on them. They were the most interesting thing he had found up here…and the only thing.

The attic ladder was in the hall, folded up and hidden away in the trap door like a lot of typical attics. Inside was a sprawling maze of boxes, plastic containers, and the occasional crate from their grandfather. Right now, he was looking for said crates, but it was kind of hard when everything was dust-colored.

His whitish hair was tinted brown with the flecks he was stirring up now. He sneezed loudly as just a pinch too many got into his nose, stirring up more and, in turn, coloring him more light brown.

"I'm gonna need a shower after this," he summarized. "But first, to find those crates…"

Finally, planks caught his eye amongst flat-out cardboard. "There you are!" he exclaimed softly, shoving the box over to get to it.

Something cracked from inside of it as it hit the floor.

"…whoops," he shrugged nonchalantly. It wasn't like it was important, anyway. In the attic, nothing really was.

…except the figures.

"Crabapple!" Cress hissed, skidding to the box (earning him plenty of bonus splinters) and flinging it open. Luckily, it was only an oil lamp they used in major power outages.

He returned to the crate. It went halfway up his chest in height, large enough to fit Freya and Caitlyn with room to spare. What could be in it, thought? Seeing as it bore no bright red 'DANGER' symbols, he tried prying it open.

The only reward he got, however, was more splinters.

"Hmm…I don't think we have a crowbar in here…" he hummed. "Then again, I didn't know we had awesome-looking toys in here, either, so…aha!" he exclaimed, looking proudly at the corner where an old broom reclined.

He ran to it, snatched it out of its spot, and rushed back to the crate. Wedging the smooth end of the handle into the small gap he had created in between crate and lid, Cress mounted the box.

"Alright, you can do this, you can do this," he mumbled to himself, staring down the broom. After a moment's more of hesitation and motivation, he slid his right foot onto the broom.

The lid creaked, the broomstick lowered, but the crate did not open. Would physics allow him another go?

Ever so cautiously, he inched his foot from the tip of the lid to the broom—

CRACK! WUMP!

"AIOW!"

…stick.

"Ow, ow, ow, OWOWOWOWOW!" Cress whimpered, on top of the broomstick. Nothing was broken, luckily, besides the tip of the broom and—

The crate lid. The lid had been swung open from the force of a fourteen-year-old on a broom, banged into the wall, and sunk to the floor; exposing the valuables inside.

"…huh…" he grunted.

Inside the crate were several smaller boxes, some like the first chest—despite size difference. Experimentally, he opened one.

**/*\**

"You're…you're alive…?"

"Yea, we are. Disappearing from desks kinda proves that fact, doesn't it?" Fox grunted, a little peeved.

Marco sat with his legs folded to his sides, hands in his lap, looking curiously at the _alive_ toy. His eyes were wide and his face was pale with shock, but he confirmed to himself that it was not a dream and that Fox McCloud was standing in front of him.

"But how?" he asked him. "I thought you were just felt, stitching, cotton, and—"

"Backstory? Well, personally, I don't really get it in all, either. And I'M the one involved!" Fox chuckled. "But I really should say 'we'. We don't know."

"We? You mean Mario and Link and—and Pikachu," Marco stated, "and yourself… and everyone I got…is alive."

"Short answer, yes."

"And you stayed in the attic for forty-some years? Wow," he whistled.

"Meh, it wasn't all that bad," Fox shrugged, "we were inactive. I guess the sunlight or somethin' woke us up."

"…that…is…awesome," Marco gaped. "The coming-back-alive part, I mean."

Pikachu, aroused as to what was going on outside, stuck a nose out and smelled the air. A blink later, the little mouse was sitting on his haunches right in front of him. It cocked its head at him, blinked a few times, and scratched an ear.

"Hey, he trusts you!" Fox exclaimed, seeing Pikachu's relaxed posture.

"Hey there, Pikachu," Marco whispered, extending a hand to him. It hesitated and scooted backwards a few paw steps. But when he withdrew, Pikachu eagerly jumped onto his knee.

"Oh yea, what were you talking about earlier? 'Loud thoughts' or something, what's that about?" he asked, sitting back.

"Us smashers have a way with hearing thoughts," Fox answered. "You see, when you were talking yourself over in your head about electric mice or something, Pikachu was interested. But when you go on about your own safety, he thought you were thinking of him as a pest or something."

"I see," Marco hummed. It would have been hurtful to Pikachu, even worse considering that he was a mouse-like creature. It might have not even known what a glove was, maybe thought it was some sort of trap-system or something…

Pikachu nuzzled into his pant leg and uttered something of its language.

"So you're telepathic?"

"Heck, no!" Fox growled. "I can't even imagine how annoying it would be, listening to everybody's thoughts all the time. I mean, really. We just kinda pick up on the subject. So now you're thinking, somewhat vaguely, 'holy crabapple there's a fox talking to me what the heck am I asleep what is going on'. Again, vague translation."

"I'd say that's pretty spot-on," a new voice spoke. It sounded automated and single-toned, like a robot.

"Hey, Samus," Marco greeted as the robotic-clad bounty hunter walked on scene. His screen lit up when he was active and the joints screeched a little when he moved.

"Fox, I thought we agreed to stay hidden," Samus deadpanned. "Remember the last guy we revealed ourselves to?"

"But HE hasn't passed out—"

"Yet."

"You're not helping, Marco."

"Gentlemen, please," Samus sighed—at least it was said like a sigh, "Let's not get our claws out on the second night now. No pun intended."

"Are you sure, Samus?" Marco chuckled. "At least we know what the fox says now, right?"

"Yes, he obviously speaks the terms of recklessness," Samus scolded. "What were you thinking?!"

"I was thinking that we needed some excitement around here!" Fox shouted. "And he saw Pikachu first!"

"Pika? Pika pi chu Pikachu!" Pikachu squeaked, pulling up a loose fold of pant leg in a shield mock.

"Does anyone know what he said?" Marco blinked.

"Oh yea, the list said nothing on Pokespeak. No one but Jigglypuff knows what Pikachu says—and she speaks a different language, too," Samus answered.

"Okay then," he shrugged, reaching out to pet the mouse.

"Don't."

"Hm?"

"'Thousand volt shocks'? You don't pay attention much, do ya?" Fox grumbled.

"I thought he had that under control? Like, it was stored in the cheeks and released on command or something!" Marco defended.

"It's what happened to the last guy. You need something to be tranquilized, contact that mouse," Fox stated.

"Pikachu pi cha pika Pikachu!" Pikachu whimpered again.

"I don't need to be Jigglypuff to tell he doesn't want to be involved," Samus argued. "Fox, you should have stayed hidden!"

"But he was going to find him anyway!" Fox shouted back. "Why can't we get someone to understand?! Why do we need to stay in that ol' box for another four decades?!"

"That is not our choice!" Samus answered. "We don't get a say in this since we left that shop! We are owned property!"

"Well I certainly don't enjoy it! It's not our fault we were purchased for a few licks of silver and a fistful of gold coins!" Fox yelled. "We can do that again! In fact, you're helping by showing up yourself!"

"At least I can take him out!" Samus shouted. "You're unarmed! You left your gun at the desk leg and came out in the open when he could easily crush you with a foot!"

"And what kind of welcome would that be, coming out armed and ready to fire?!"

Pikachu and Marco glanced back and forth between the arguing two, left helpless to interrupt. Pikachu couldn't speak to either and Marco would most likely make it worse—or get shot. He didn't really want to, anyway; the toy's history was unraveling in front of his eyes.

Luckily, neither of them had to.

"ENOOOUUGH!"

A firewall ignited between the two, lit by a blaze too fast to be seen. It cut them short from the argument-Fox muttering something angrily to Samus after a bit. "Great. Now we're all in trouble."

"Where the heck did that—Oh geeze, its fire!" Marco yelped, grabbing the closest object to him—an old paper fan previously lost on the mess—and batted it out. The fire went out nicely, but now a line-shaped scorch mark would be emblazed into the floor.

"It doesn't matter now-a," the Italian accent continued.

Out of the near-approaching shadows emerged Mario, a few stray embers still dancing out of his palm. He let the hand sag to his side as the plumber approached, looking strangely calm.

"I'm-a not sure what crazy thought got-a into your head, Fox, but it was not-a safe one-a," he continued, obvious to the gaping Marco. If any were paying attention to his thoughts, the subject had shifted to 'dang, he can break up a fight easy'.

"It was gonna happen, anyway," Fox sniffed, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Samus, you could-a have gotten one-a of us," he continued. "And threatening Marco wasn't-a gonna help."

"I was not threatening," Samus growled, "I was stating the obvious."

Mario rolled his eyes before turning to Marco at last. "And now-a he's involved."

"Personally, I still think I'm hallucinating," said boy admitted, rubbing the back of his hair, "but…I guess it's beyond that, at this point."

"Yup," Fox and Samus stated simultaneously.

"Pika," Pikachu shrugged.

"And I think this means we can walk about normally know," Fox said, shooting Samus a smirk. "I had it completely under control."

"Yup," Marco grunted.

"Then I guess-a it all does work out-a," Mario blinked. "Hum."

Suddenly, the door opened. Everyone turned to see Cress walking in, looking down at two limp, white things in his hand.

"Hey Marco? Why are you talking to yourself? Anyway, I found some stuff in the closet you might wanna take a looooooooo…." He trailed off, seeing the smashers before/on Marco.

"…I can explain everything!" Marco said quickly, Pikachu jumping off a split-second before he stood up.

Cress, however, stood where he was.

"…Cress?" Marco asked cautiously.

"…my gosh," Cress muttered, slumping to the floor in a dead faint.

"Great, Fox, you broke him!" Samus moaned, throwing his hand and arm cannon into the air.

"No, I think he's just fainted," Marco hummed, kneeling in front of him before the white things caught his attention. "Hey, what are these?"

"Gloves, what do they look like?" Fox answered as Marco took them from Cress. The boy held both, two white gloves with a bit of a cuff on each. They seemed brand-new, probably fabric…

…or maybe…

Slipping the right one over his hand, he extended it to Pikachu once more. Pikachu cowered back for a moment but didn't move otherwise, instead letting itself be stroked with a fingertip.

"Yea," Marco grinned, "I have a feeling things will go along just fine."

**HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—Nope.**

**See, I told you guys I was a good author! I felt like I was slacking on style with Samus and Fox's argument, though, but it worked out, didn't it? Maybe I'll go back and change it later.**

**…****and I don't have any nerd points for you, sorry…I mean, if you wanna point out the fact that Samus isn't a guy, that's fine, it's just that THEY don't know that. You know? Age-old "Samus is a girl?!" response?**

**Be sure to review, follow and favorite! I'll have the next chapter up soon, so just keep lovin' them Eevee till then! I'll see you next chapter! **


	5. Chapter Four: Mice and Men

**/*\ ****_Chapter 4: Mice and Men _****/*\**

"…MORNING, MARCO!"

"IGIDENDOET!" Marco shouted right back, rolling off the bed.

"Well, SOMEONE seems clumsy this morning!" Cress smirked.

Marco flipped a pillow off his head and glared daggers at his brother for the rude awakening. The night's memory was still fresh in his mind; Mario had tried coaxing the others to meet him, but it ended up fruitless—they had all vanished at once. Cress eventually woke up and nearly passed out again after sighting Pikachu sniffing his nose, was introduced to the night club, and promptly joined. Then they had gotten on the topic of food, which meant that he just _absolutely had to_ run downstairs for them to taste 'tardy pops'.

Apparently they had agreed on sleep after a while, for he was back in his room.

Cress was sitting on the end of his bed, crouched like a kitten on a spot too small for it. "Ready for another day? Say, did you have the same crazy dream I had last night? 'Cuz there is ABSOLUTELY NO WAY that was real!"

"I dunno, we'd need to check," Marco muttered, dragging the mangled sheets back over him.

Cress promptly yanked them off with a dramatic flair. "Its seven-fifteeeen," he sing-songed.

"It's a Saturday," the brother growled, exposed to the elements of morning chill.

"No, I'm pretty sure it's tues-daaaaay!" Cress continued, spinning on a foot. The sheets got him tangled, however, and he went down as Marco shot up.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU WAKE ME UP SOONER?!" he gasped, rushing to the closet.

"Mhm shd nt tw!" Cress answered through a mouthful of sheet. He rolled the opposite way he had spun to detangle the cloth hampering him, seeing that Marco had rushed out the door.

"I'm late, I'm late!" he yelled, panicked.

"Shut up, you sound like that rabbit from Alice!" Freida ordered.

"It doesn't flicking matter, I slept in too late!" he continued, wolfing down a bowl of cereal.

Cress, tromping downstairs proudly, was spun again as Marco ran back upstairs—and steadied before being kidnapped to the playroom by his hand.

"Ugh, finally!" he moaned. "I've wanted to check all morning—"

"Someone'll hear you and think we've got a rat or something in there," Marco said under his breath.

BANG!

"MORNIN, GUYS!"

WHACK!

"NESS!" Mario gasped. The plumber was standing right next to the door, on the opposite side from the hinges—it had missed him by a hair. He ran across the room as fast as he could, to the slumped form of the toy that had been not as lucky.

"Cress," Marco growled.

"How was I supposed to know someone was there?" he answered, stepping over Fox to get to the victim.

"Ugh…it was all brown…and then it was black and…and I saw a white light," Ness murmured. His baseball bat was held tightly in his right hand, signature hat cocked on its side next to him.

"Ness, how many fingers am I holding up?" Mario asked, lifting two fingers in front of his face.

"Um…uuuum…one—no, four!" Ness answered, black eyes wide.

"It's two," Fox stated dryly, crouched next to him.

"Wait, really?" he asked, obvious to it. Seeing Marco and Cress, he suddenly gasped, "oh my gosh! I think the giants have come for me!"

"…Is he always like this?" Marco asked.

"No, only when he gets KNOCKED SENSELESS BY A GIANT DOOR," a new voice yelled. Cress looked guiltily behind himself to see three other new faces approach: Captain Falcon-the one who had spoken, a shield-less Link, and a worried Kirby.

"I'm sorry, okay!" Cress groaned, sitting down. "So maybe we need to work on a few things!"

"Like 'don't knock Earthbound characters senseless before eight A.M.'?" Marco suggested, walking to the door and pushing it shut gently.

"How does he know my series…what…why am I seeing Starfys…?" Ness continued to hallucinate.

Mario turned to the new arrivals and Fox. "Do we have anything for concussions?"

"I didn't know we could GET concussions," Samus said.

"Maybe he's in some form of the 'confuse' status?" Captain Falcon suggested.

Link shrugged.

"In that case, he'll shake it off. Falcon, Link, Kirby, this is Marco and Cress," Mario introduced.

"Nice to meet you all," Marco nodded.

"'Sup?" Cress asked casually.

"Poyo!" Kirby answered, pointing to the ceiling.

"What'd he say?" Marco blinked.

"Yea, Kirby speaks…Kirbish? Did we agree on that?" Fox asked, looking to the others. "And Link's a mute."

Link grunted, crossing his arms.

"He's not a mute and you know that," Samus said, poking Fox in the chest. His now-equipped blaster jangled in its spot on his belt.

"It's easier than saying _speech disabled," _Fox snorted.

"Hey, hey I think it's wearing off!" Ness said, shakily getting to his feet. "…no it's not. I still see giants."

"And that's Ness. Ness, meet Marco and Cress," Samus explained.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA, that rhymed," Cress laughed. Marco sighed.

"Heya!" Ness shouted up at them. "Did one of you open the door?"

"Err, that was me," Cress admitted sheepishly. "Sorry."

"No hard feelings," Ness shrugged. "Okay, there was a hard door, but no hard feelings."

"I say you got pretty lucky," Samus noted. "You could have been flat-out squashed by it, or into something more painful-like, saaaaaay, that sword prop over there."

"Or have gotten your spine broken," Captain Falcon added.

"We don't have spines," Ness stated.

"The saying rubbed off on me somewhere," the pilot shrugged.

"So, this is all of you, then?" Marco asked.

"No, there's the four others," he answered, shaking his head. "Yoshi's off exploring that closet with DK and Jigglypuff. Luigi…I have no idea where Luigi went."

"After that door scene, I'd be surprised if he DOES come out," Fox snorted.

"I said I was sorry!" Cress argued. "Why were you walking _around_ the door anyway? You couldn't have just crossed further out?!"

"It was because of THAT THING!" Ness declared, pointing accusingly to the scrap paper pile on the floor Pikachu had been hiding in last night. It looked just as it had the other night, albeit the hole leading inside being shuffled to a larger entry.

"The paper…?" Marco trailed.

"What's INSIDE the paper," Captain Falcon deadpanned.

Cress, undaunted, crawled to the paper collection and brushed the top of. He exclaimed something as a brown, furry creature ran out towards the figures. Marco sighted it was an actual mouse, scared to death with a large splinter of wood sticking out of its side.

He had exactly two seconds to figure out what it was before another piece was shot into its snout, making the mouse squeak in pain. Marco spared a glance at the source: Link, who had produced a bow out of thin air and was loading another arrow.

He fired it, hitting the mouse in the hind leg and causing a small spurt of blood to appear on its fur.

By then, the mouse had made it to them and proceeded to barrel Fox over while the others jumped back. It was a mess of different pelts before the mouse finally emerged, holding Fox in its teeth by the scruff of his jacket.

"Fox!" half of them exclaimed.

"HEY!" Fox shouted at its captor, who blinked at them in response.

"No you don't—AH!" Ness exclaimed as he was batted away. The mouse took off with Fox to its hole, quickly vanishing inside before anyone could attack again. Samus and Link had their weapons ready to fire (Marco taking note that Samus charged a blue ball of electricity to fire), but gave up after losing sight of both in the hole.

"Now what?" Mario growled. "We can't just leave him in there!"

"I'M not going in," Ness squinted. "I can't see a thing!"

"None of us are going in, that's for sure," Captain Falcon said quickly. "We'll find some other way."

"That mouse must have been stirred up when you were rampaging last night," Samus summarized.

"Excuse me?" Marco asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Did you s_ee _the room?" Samus stated right back.

"…Alright," Marco sighed, raising his hands in defense and standing up, "since it's apparently MY fault, I'll get him out."

"How?" Cress called after him as he strutted to the desk.

Marco took the right-hand glove Cress had assigned him that night and slipped it on, double-checking it was on tight. He felt confident in the fabric being tough enough for the job, and if not—he could always wash it.

Armed and ready, he returned to the group and peered into the hole. The somewhat-helpful morning light let him peer in a little ways, but not much farther—just as Ness had said.

Sudden shouts and various cursing from the hole politely reminded them that a character was about to be eaten alive by mice, and Marco cut right to the chase; he stuck his hand into the hole and felt around for Fox. While he was doing this, several small blasting sounds were barely heard. Certainly luck Fox had his blaster, then…

"Well…it turns with the wall…I think I can feel an incline in the roof here," he narrated while feeling around.

"Darn mice…be climbin' out yo holes in the walls…snatchin yo people up…" Cress grumbled, ready to give them a piece of his mind.

"Is Fox technically a person?" Ness asked.

"No idea," Samus drawled.

"I GOT HIM!"

"Bring him up, then!" Mario shouted excitably, cocking his head to look down the hole as well.

Marco detangled his arm from the system and pulled Fox out of the hole victoriously, revealing him to be covered in rodent bites with patches of fur missing. His coat was also torn up, from being dragged back through a literal rodent hole, and his blaster was smoking slightly.

"Fox? Fox!" Marco shouted, shifting his fingers a little. "Fox, if you died in there, so help me gosh—"

Fox sneezed on a bit of dust to interrupt, coughed a few more bits up, and opened his eyes blearily at him. He shot a small smirk at him, rasping, "not…my…greatest moment…"

"Marco! Cress!" Freya shouted from downstairs. "The bus is here! Come on, you'll be late!"

"Take him with us," Cress ordered. "We can't have him attacked by rodents again."

"We can't afford to keep FOX in the school, he'll give us off!" Marco argued.

"Not if he's unconscious," Cress cleared his throat in Fox's direction, seeing how he had gone limp.

"Fine," Marco moaned, taking off the glove with Fox still on it and wrapping the fingers around his unconscious form. "We'll see you guys later," he added to the others.

"Wait! What—"

The door cut off Ness again as it was slammed shut, stampeding footsteps signaling that they had left. "What about us…?" Ness trailed, glancing at the hole with unease.

**Yes, I know it's been a while. Yes, I know I'm updating at two-thirty in the morning. Yes, I know I need more sleep-*falls onto keyboard* SNAAAAAAAARRRFFF…**

**Marth: Err, Reevee? The rest of the author's note?**

**SNAA—I'M AWAKE! *Jolts up*. I'M AWAKE. I AM SUCH A NIGHT OWL. Be sure to review, follow, and favorite, guys! And, if you're up at two thirty four in the morning, *grabs shirt* TELL ME YOUR SECREEEEETT!**

**BONUS NERD POINTS to whoever got the Starfy hallucination Ness was blabbering about!**

**Hug you're Eevee, guys, I'll see you next-*Falls onto keyboard again* snaaaaaarf…**

**Marth: *Facepalm***


	6. Chapter Five: Sparks and Stories

**Before I begin this, EXTRA-SPECIAL thanks to Smashking24 for the extra-long review! Sorry about the little brother thing, that was supposed to be edited out, but it slipped past me!**

**Enjoy the extra-long chapter I made for you guys!**

* * *

><p><strong>*\ ****_Chapter 5: Sparks and Stories _****/*\**

It was the sudden knock to the side that finally woke him up.

Fox had been in blissful unconsciousness, dreaming on about one of his many adventures with the rest of Star Fox, when some deity or other had seemingly kicked the side of his…wherever he was at the moment. Now he found himself on his side, several white strips over him while he was sprawled on a large, flat object.

Someone yelped something from the outside (he was inside something, apparently) and the whole place shifted back so that he was no longer on the flat object but below it—and it was tilting.

Instincts, self-defense tactics, and common sense caused the pilot to raise his hands in an X and summon a half-globe of some kind of glassy, red material—the common smasher's shield. Others had more complicated shields (Ness bragged he could pull up an entire dome) or even actual shields, but he just had the standard shield.

The flat objects—stone, perhaps?—fell over him but knocked back against the shield, making his vision fuzz out but giving him time to crouch into the slanted tent they formed.

The fight-or-flight response died off in his mind as he shifted into a more comfortable posture. He felt around the floor and walls of his place, smelled the air, looked about the darkness, looking for anything that could give a clue as to where he was. The results he came up with was that the walls felt beaded and slightly fuzzy, whilst the floor held the traction of rubber. It smelled of paper and stiff air, some kind of fruit's scent was in there too if he squinted.

He listened again to the outside world. A woman's voice was droning on, though he couldn't make out the words through the walls and the odd tablet-things. Occasionally she would pause and soft scratching would take her place. It wasn't an earsplitting sort of sound, more like quick, rapid strokes in lines or corners or the occasional circle. Some scratching didn't stop if her voice returned, but would pause and move on in muffled silence with long, gentle movements.

Fox couldn't tell how long he was in there, listening to the described noises while he pondered and crouched. The thought of the mouse attack surfaced after a while and he outwardly shuddered at the experience, but was left hanging as to what had happened after he was dragged out. Did Marco leave him there? Or did he take him to this odd place? Did he take them all? What about the mice?

All of a sudden, a loud ring made its way through the muffler of the tablets and walls, causing Fox to yelp and cover his ears. No one seemed to notice him, but it was mainly because there were all sorts of other noises going on again; rubber squeaking, books closing, pencils clattering, a door opening, and—

The entire area lurched upward, all at once, thumping the tablets against the side and making himself fall back into the while cloth he first found himself in. He inched back from it and gave it a more curious look before he focused on holding to something during the rhythmic jostling he was trapped in.

He eventually found a loose, thick string poking out of the wall and grabbed it. It didn't budge under his weight, so he took hold with both hands before he was knocked against the tablets.

A familiar voice made its way from the outside. It sounded like Cress.

"Hey, is Fox alright?"

"He didn't make a sound the entire time, even when the bag fell over, so I'm not sure," another voice, much closer, answered. Marco…?

"I thought I heard something when the bell rang. Oh, the group's getting away! SAGE, WAIT UP!" Cress shouted before apparently running off.

His ride jostled and sped up to keep up with him, and it was then that Fox came to the brilliant conclusion that he was in Marco's backpack.

**/*\**

Back at home, the four yet-to-be-met smashers were in quite the opposite environment.

Although it was the size of any other average hall closet, it was lined to the top with shelves—and those shelves, in turn, were almost overloaded with tubs of toys, piles of blankets, and boxes of any variety of connecting bricks or stacking planks. Sheets of word-heavy papers were stacked or simply left around the actual playthings, serving as notes for just about every game ever to have existed in the playroom itself.

A gorilla, the one with the red, initialed tie, had already mounted these shelves and was looking down from a third-story one. Three others were below; the pink ball of fluff with the big eyes, the dinosaur with a custom-made saddle, and the green-clad plumber of Mario's family.

They had been in there since the morning of that day and were still toying with the various objects contained in the closet. The door was opened a small sliver, beckoning them back for when a door slamming and shouting was heard, but they happened to be riffling through the muffler blankets and hadn't heard a thing.

"What do you think they do with these?" the green plumber asked out of thought, leaning a wooden plank the size of a log onto its top. The thing balanced before finally tipping, the man jumping out of the way with a yelp as it almost crashed on him.

The dinosaur babbled something in its language, occupied with one of the small creatures the two girls of the house played with.

Suddenly, a mouse squeezed through the door's crack with a rodent squeak. It glanced around the dark closet briefly before making a break for a hole in the corner of the wall.

The round, pink monster hopped out of the way when it did, avoiding the blasts and arrows shot after it. Link also followed through the gap she caused, leapt into the air above the mouse, and stabbed his sword through its back with a war cry.

A sickly snap briefly played though the closet with the mouse's dying squeak before the creature slumped to the floor. Link stood up on its back, not one to gloat over a simple beast's defeat, and tried getting the sword back out again.

"W-what the?!" the plumber gasped. "Mario, what is this?"

"Luigi! There you are!" Mario noted from the door. "You already missed Marco and Cress, they had to take Fox with them when one of the mice nearly ate him…"

"Ate him?" Luigi gulped. "Is he alright?"

"He's alive, that's all we know," Ness answered, walking through the door just in time for Link to finally get the sword back out—the rebound causing him to fall down the carcass.

The gorilla chose that moment to land next to the mouse with a slight thud. He inched closer to it and prodded at its side curiously before turning to the two from outside.

"We decided upon taking out the mice so we don't run into a situation like that again," Mario explained. "But it's not going so well—"

"HEY!" Samus' irritated tone shouted from outside. "Are you helping or what!? I'm going down the hole!"

"What?! No!" Ness shouted back as the seven left the closet.

Samus was standing with his hands on his hips outside one of the holes, looking determined. Captain Falcon was busy chasing down a different individual as it cantered under the tables, Kirby having decided the "upwards" route was much better and floating from table to table. Pikachu had disappeared before the hunt began, little surprise—he was based off them!

"Samus, have you lost your mind? You could get eaten!" Luigi shivered.

The pink ball slid in front of the hole with tears in its eyes, silently pleading him not to leave.

"Jigglypuff, move over," Samus sighed. "I'm covered in metal, remember? They couldn't eat me even if they got past my blasts!"

Jigglypuff let out a long, dramatic sigh and did as Samus ordered, still asking for him to stay safe.

Samus took on his form resembling an orange and yellow ball of metal and rolled down the hole. He ended up hitting the inside of the wall when it happened and rolled the other way like a pinball, startling a mouse out of its path and up the hole.

He ended up on a continued roll until he hit another wall, uncurling before he went rolling again. He had to be on the outside wall; insulation was thick here and there wasn't any way forward.

The tunnel was a little larger than the vermin's bulk and a little shorter than his height, leading his pose to be of a slightly ducking form with the blaster out and ready to kill.

The first to enter his wrath was a mouse leaving its nest in the insulation; it was dispatched and the hole was fixed not because he happened to be a neat freak, but because the batch of hairless pups inside needed to be dealt with.

Then another was killed, and another, a fourth joining their spirits—it felt oddly like déjà vu, even if he couldn't remember doing a thing vaguely like running through tight corridors and taking out man-eating monsters.

But the more he doubted, the more he realized that the previous sentence had happened, in another time, in another place. It was the same as going into an infested area that others don't dare to travel for the sake of taking out the enemy…

Then he remembered:

The stories.

Back in the amazon, back before all this nonsense about trade started up, she could remember the craftsman's daughter who had spoken of her father's stories. Not just any stories, t_heir _stories, the ones of taking down evil for the sake of princesses or whatever else the craftsman had thought up of while he worked on them.

She had a love of each of them, and a story to match them. If Samus could recall, his was of a bounty hunter that traveled the galaxy in search of jobs to be done, being orphaned by a pirate of sorts titled as Ridley.

The girl was the most upset about them leaving, if not the only. It was for the sake of rare herbs needed to cure the village's illness, if she could remember. None of them saw how hard she waved after them, on the lone cliff that overlooked the sea, but they overheard one of the sailors saying so.

They, too, missed the girl. Being separated from her tore them emotionally, but seemed to weaken them physically; by sunset, he was too weak to stay conscious.

Was that girl still there? It had been quite a few years since they last met, even if it felt like yesterday. Maybe she wasn't even a young girl anymore.

Samus sighed to himself and continued stepping down the mouse hole, thoughts of Nintenna still in her head.

**/*\**

Marco was between relieved and startled out of his wits when a voice in his backpack muttered, "you could walk more carefully, ya know."

"Good to see you're up, Fox," he noted, flipping it around and unzipping the top to see the lupine crouched under his books. The end bell had just rang but he had been helping a girl gather her upset book pile, leaving him in a deserted hall. Cress had ran off to the front already where their parents were probably waiting, but he had a bit of time.

"I don't think anyone's around, if you prefer a shoulder mount," he offered, lifting Fox out with the glove under him.

"Beats a backpack, eh?" Fox humored, running up his sleeve and taking a spot on his left shoulder. "But seriously, who in their right mind throws a bag that hard? Jeez!"

Marco winced at the memory of him tossing the bag when it was the start of PE.

"Where are we, anyway?"

"School," Marco answered, slipping the bag strap over his opposite shoulder and strolling towards the exit doors. "Cress kept bugging me about you, but I didn't want the teachers freaking out about a living t—figure…"

"Huh," Fox noted, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling, "I don't remember a school being this modern. Then again, I've been in an attic for some-odd years, so don't take my opinion."

"Hmm…our dad first put that box up there twenty years ago, when his brother—out uncle—was lost at sea. But I don't know where he got it in the first place, or why he never took you out in the first place," Marco explained.

"Twenty years?!" Fox yelped.

Marco winced again and lifted a hand to that ear. "My ear is right above your head, you know," he complained.

By then, they had made it to the doors. Marco shoved it open with his free hand, an autumn breeze causing Fox to dig whatever claws he had into his vest. A black mini-van was parked outside with the motor running, Freya shouting at him to catch up from it.

"Okay, Fox, do you mind hiding? Like I said, the adults will freak."

"No pro," Fox nodded curtly, sliding back down Marco's sleeve and taking a short leap into his left pocket.

"Marco, what are you doing!? Taking in the scenery?! Come on, let's _go!" _Freya continued to yell.

"Alright, alright, you don't need to yell!" Marco shouted back, taking his usual spot in the second row while Freya returned to the backseat.

As he was about to sit and she was backing up, her hand managed to come over his left pocket before Pox poked his snout out to see what the ruckus was for. This resulted in Freya swatting his nose, which she immediately recoiled from accidentally doing with an "Ouch!"

Fox let out a muffled yelp and glared at her. Freya, holding her hand, happened to glance up at him. Her eyes widened and she jumped into her seat's corner with a shriek.

"What?! What happened?!" Cress jumped, taking off an MP3 player and looking between both.

Freya looked in horror where Fox had been, Caitlyn raising her eyebrows.

"Did something happen, Freya?" their mother asked, poking her head over the seat.

Marco shot her a desperate glance, Cress mouthing a dozen pleads with his hands clasped and an _I promise we'll tell later!_

"Y-yea, I'm fine," Freya answered, sending a questioning glare at the boys, "just a lot of static electricity or something."

* * *

><p><strong>THANK YOU, FREYA, FOR NOT RUINING MY FIC!<strong>

**Sorry for the late update, everyone, life and my lack of motivation lead to a minor hiatus. CURSE YOU, MY LAZY BRAIN! Oh wait, it came up with the idea…NEVERMIND, BRAIN!**

**EXTRA...REEV POINTS for whoever can give their vague opinion on 1, why it hurt when Freya hit Fox, or 2, why she described it as "a lot of static electricity"! Hint: there are a few references to a "spark" in the introduction!**

**Thanks for reading! I'd love it if you hit that follow/favorite button, he hasn't been getting enough presses, and the review button is close behind!**

**And HUG DEM EEVEE, you know you want to! I'll see you next chapter!**


	7. Chapter Six: A Spark of Creativity

**Hey y'all, happy Saturday! Oh, ****I forgot to mention something last chapter! **

**SO, the way this fic is going, it LOOKS like it's just going to be about the N64 game so far. But believe me, I'm going to *grabs broom* EXPLAIN ALL THE SMASH BROTHERS GAMES! **

**Melee, Brawl, and the 3DS/Wii U versions will come after I'm done typing how they created the stages, inspired fighting, found items, etc. I'll make EVERY character show up and cameo a LOT of other companies that played a roll (Intelligent Systems, Namco, Capcom, Nintendo EAD, and Monolith Soft to name a few). And apparently there's a rumor going around that this would be like _Indian in the Cupboard_? I have no idea how that got started, but I'm not aiming for it to be that way. **

**...Yes, Zetra: There will be Zelda. You'll see how she shows up.**

**/*\ ****_Chapter 6: A Spark of Creativity _****/*\**

Freya had little clue over what had happened in the car, just that something sent a jolt of electricity up her poor hand and left it useless for writing homework. But she had seen a little fox's head poke out of Marco's pocket, which was both startling and confusing all at once. It had been glaring at her quite angrily while holding its bruised snout (which was most likely her doing).

It angered her more when Marco revealed they had him since yesterday.

"You mean you've been keeping a living, breathing fox toy for an entire day?!" Freya growled as they lead Caitlyn and her up the steps. Caitlyn seemed not to have a care in the world of what they were hiding behind their backs (or pockets, in afternoon's case), but was curious as to why Freya now had a wrapping over her hand.

"Shhh! Mom or dad will hear you!" Cress scolded quietly, eyes darting from side to side in case the two adults were near. It was right after dinner, both occupied with other tasks like paperwork or what-not, so the chance was slim.

When they first got home, Marco had darted upstairs like a flighty bird while concealing something with a white glove. She didn't see where, because her mother promptly led her to the bathroom for some sort of covering for her burned hand. Yes, _burned. _Whatever had sparked her hand sparked it well.

It was ironic, since in their game if one was shocked hard enough, paralyzing of the victim would be the case. They had come to that conclusion after seeing how a paralyzed man shivered if he tried to move, like electricity was running through him.

"Okay, so, before you meet them," Marco started, being cut off by Caitlyn.

"Them? There's more than one?" she perked.

"Oh, so more than one living things! Wow!" Freya ranted sarcastically.

"Err, twelve," Marco sighed. "Anyway, just…don't freak out, okay?"

"I'm not a freak-person, though I may shriek when necessary," Freya deadpanned.

Cress rolled his eyes and opened the door to the playroom (noticeably more cautiously than earlier that day). But instead of a tiny, living, breathing fox greeting them at the entrance…a rather large, very dead, corpse of a mouse did.

Caitlyn covered her mouth to hold in a scream, but a bit of the noise still slipped through her lips. Freya lifted her eyebrows, Marco made a questioning grunt, and Cress just plain gasped.

"SORRY! Sorry!" a male voice apologized quickly from the ground. "We're cleaning them up, I promise!"

"Capn', what the heck happened?!" Cress asked, turning to Captain Falcon. The racer was a few feet away, in the process of shoving a different body down a mouse hole. Samus and Mario continued the job while he walked over to them.

"What the heck what the heck WHAT THE HECK WHAT THE HECK—"Freya repeated worriedly as he came closer, backing sideways with Caitlyn into the corner. They eventually reached a table and pressed against its side, though a curious "Hm!" from it caused Caitlyn to turn.

There, standing on their refuge from the oddity, was Link. Of course, she didn't see him as "Link", just as a green warrior looking up curiously at them. She turned away from Captain Falcon—who was explaining to the two brothers why there were was a rodent massacre—and bent down to get at eye level with him.

"Hello…" she greeted quietly.

Link raised a hand in greeting.

"I suppose you're with them?" she continued softly, nudging an elbow in the direction of the other gathering toys-come-alive.

He nodded.

"Huh…you're a bit of a quiet fellow, you know," the girl noted. She cocked her head at him, and namely the empty spot on his back…

Link shrugged in response to the note. It wasn't the first time he had been called a quiet person; due to some circumstance during his creation, an element just hadn't come into play that allowed him to speak. He could shout well, and had a Hylian tone that carried well in battle, but wasn't able to communicate through any other way.

"Wait…" she trailed, reaching into her pocket, "do you happen to own this…?"

His shield was nestled gently into her palm and she offered it to him cautiously. She had kept it on her all day after forgetting about it in the first place, though it looked his size.

He nodded rapidly and approached, lifting the shield out of her hand and slinging it onto his back—back where it belonged.

"H-hey, Caitlyn! Come over here to make sure I'm not hallucinating!" Freya stammered from her spot, cross-legged on the floor.

"Want to join us?" Caitlyn offered Link.

He nodded but paused over her hand cautiously. He took out his shield instead and put it on her hand again, stepping onto it. She cocked an eye at the odd way of transportation, but didn't say anything as he sat like a kid on a sled and held the edge while she walked to the others.

The eleven others were in front of a relaxed Marco and Cress but cautious Freya, the twin taking a seat next to her and letting Link down.

"So…um…hi, I'm Freya," she greeted warily.

A chorus of various greetings (some being "Poyo!" or "Pika!") answered her back.

"And this would be Caitlyn," she continued in a less shut-in tone, gesturing to her sister.

Caitlyn waved with a small smile.

"They're our younger sisters," Marco explained. "I wouldn't have gotten them involved, but Fox did something to Freya's hand earlier—"

"Hey, I didn't do anything!" 'Fox' protested. "She _slapped _my face!"

"It was an accident!" Freya argued back.

"Doesn't matter, you all know each other, let's just move on!" Cress suggested.

"Fine," both Fox and Freya spat. It was quite obvious they weren't going to be in such good relations from that point onward, but who am I to say?

"What was that, anyway?" Freya continued. "It was like a jolt of electricity or something!"

"Must have been Fox's spark," Mario decreed.

"Spark?" Marco repeated. "As in, energy?"

"That works…how to I explain this…?" Mario trailed questionably.

Lucky for him, Samus came to the rescue. "Listen, you ever heard the term 'spark of imagination'?" she started.

"Somewhere," Cress shrugged, "probably kid's TV, but go on."

"That would be a good way to explain it, then," Samus continued. "We come alive through that kind of science, by a will of thought. If we get too far from our 'sparker', you could say, or they just don't have enough creativity to light a spark, we'd go back to our limp, useless forms."

"Which would be why you were unconscious in the attic for some-odd years," Marco noted.

"Yes. 'Course, you can't spark just anything; it's a certain kind of fabric or something that does it," Samus added.

"So, wait," Caitlyn spoke up at last, "if you were already far from your sparker, then how did you come back alive?"

All eyes/fingers went to Marco.

"…what, you think I did it?" he took the bait after a moment of awkward silence.

"Think about it, dude." Cress noted casually. "The way you were ranting about these guys, and how you had that look in your eye, I'd be surprised if it were anyone else!"

"Huh…" Marco trailed before gaining a pleased grin. "That's pretty cool."

"Like a SUPPA POWA!" Freya giggled.

"Meh, it's cool for you," Fox shrugged. The saga of Fox and Freya continues…

"Hey, Freya?" Caitlyn tapped her sister while she was still chortling. "Remember that our uncle had these?"

"Yes?" Freya answered patiently, looking up from her smile.

"He also gave us that cloth, remember?" she continued. "And we made something out of it, didn't we?"

Freya's eyes widened. "Oh! You think it could be the same material?" she gasped.

She shrugged.

"Are you guys talking about that one cat thing you stitched a while ago?" Cress asked.

"Mewtwo. His name is Mewtwo," Freya deadpanned. "The fabric was this pretty lavender-y color, so we couldn't resist!"

"Well, go get him, then!" Marco waved them off. The two hastily got up from their seats and ran to the door. Marco, meanwhile, took out the glove he had been refraining from. "I wonder if sparking's all that hard…."

**/*\**

Freya and Caitlyn were a mess of excited squeals and flailing limbs as they ran to their own bedroom for Mewtwo. They hadn't thought up much for him, just that he was a clone of another monster they put together and he looked much more intimidating.

They flung open the doors and wasted no time gazing, though the temptation was high. Two twin-sized beds were in both upper corners of the room, one with black sheets, the other with dark blue. But shelves and shelves on the walls showcased hundreds of different monsters, some large, some small, all different. They were scattered on the floor, too, as well as piled up on the twin's beds and dressers.

"Number one hundred-fifty, Freya!" Caitlyn giggled.

Freya carefully scanned her side of the shelves with a hand posed to strike until she encountered her prey: a humanoid, light purple-furred cat creature with a thick tail and three-numbered hands and feet. Its dark blue gaze was pointed firmly ahead, like a soldier waiting for orders. Perhaps, after Marco sparked it, it would be!

Her hand snatched up the small figure (just large enough for her fingertips to touch when wrapped around) and the twins clattered back down the hall.

"Freya, Caitlyn, is that you?!"

The two froze at the sound of their father's call. Freya tossed the toy to Caitlyn, who tucked it behind her back. "Yes, dad, we got a bit excited!" Freya shouted back, holding the excitement out of her voice.

"Could you come down here?" he asked, walking in view of the stairs. "I need to tell you something!"

"Alright!" Freya answered for them both as she cantered down the steps and stood erect before her father. Caitlyn followed suit, still hiding Mewtwo.

"Do you remember your cousin Harold?" he asked.

"Dearly," Caitlyn sighed in sweet memory. Harold was a preteen and personal ally of the girls for helping out with their monster-fights. He even came up with the name: Pokémon, for how they could always be carried in pocket but were vicious as beasts all the same.

"He's coming to stay for a while."

The sentence didn't register in either's brains for a moment. "What?" Freya blinked.

"Harold and his parents—your aunt and uncle—will be staying for a few days at our house," their father repeated. "They just called; there was an accident at the house and they can't live there for a few days."

"That's awesome!" Freya shrieked for the umpteenth time that night. Perhaps he could meet the toys, too? The way they took out mice made them sound fit for battle, and they were talking toys, anyway. Marco might have not allowed it, but she was sure they could convince him.

"Go tell your brothers, too—he'll be staying in Marco's room!" the parent called after them when the rushed back upstairs with renewed excitement.

They finally swung open the door to the playroom and shut it again, Mewtwo in their grasp.

"Hey guys, guess what?!" Freya bubbled excitably.

"What?" Cress asked.

"Harold's staying over!"

"_What?!" _Cress gasped.

"I said, Harold's staying over!" Freya shouted louder.

"WHAT?!" Cress yelled back.

"I SAID, HAROLD'S STAYING—oh forget it!" Freya groaned.

"NO SERIOUSLY, WHAT? I CAN'T HEAR YOU FROM ALL THE SHOUTING!" Cress shouted, startling everyone.

"Well, here's Mewtwo," Caitlyn addressed, placing the creature in the center of the smashers. They stepped back from it at first, a little taken-off by the appearance, before Pikachu slinked to it and sniffed its foot.

"Huh," Marco noted, raising an eyebrow. "Why Mewtwo?"

"Well, we call it that because he was based off our other toy, Mew," she explained.

Marco slipped on his glove and stretched his fingers a bit. "Why 'it'?" he prodded. It took fuel to light a spark, after all.

"It's what we call a Legendary Pokémon, meaning there's only one of these—one of mew's clones, anyway. Only a few of the legendries have genders anyway, like these two we call—"

"Stay on topic, Caitlyn," Marco stated, trying to think up any more background for the clone. While he was at it, he tried working on a few poses for his hand that would light a spark. Snapping wasn't working, oddly enough.

"Oh, right," Caitlyn jolted. "Umm, he's a Psychic type, so he can use techniques like Shadow Ball and Psychic. Or he can use more physical attacks, like Tail Whip and Headbutt."

Marco stopped snapping as a thought came to him. If he was a psychic and a clone, did that mean it didn't feel too great about itself?

"There was this one guy, Giovanni, who wanted to make him the strongest Pokémon ever, but it failed because Mewtwo thought it was being tricked…"

He closed his eyes and tried for a cold, shut-in kind of personality. It didn't want to hurt anyone, apparently, perhaps less trustworthy as well.

"It only trusted a few people, and it's so smart that it can only be caught by a certain kind of Pokeball—the Master Ball, which can catch any Pokémon. Dusk Balls might also work—"

"Caitlyn, stay on topic," Cress noted absentmindedly, searching the toy for any kind of reaction.

Marco could clearly think up the character now, a lonely, hermit sort of personality. It would look over everything with a critical eye, not trust anyone without any great reason to, but rely on its own power and smarts to overcome others. No one took it or used it without it knowing, trained after its incident with Giovanni. Maybe it like fighting; maybe it wanted someone to consider a partner, one that was equal in strength and mind…

"Marco…look."

"Whu?" Marco murmured after Cress nudged him back to reality. His eyes widened when he saw the cat-like psychic glancing around at the other toys around it.

"Mm?" it hummed in questioning. "What's going on…who are all of you?"

* * *

><p><strong>Mewtwo, I thought you were a psychic! Use your head and use your brain to figure out what they're thinking! …wait, what? GRRRR, NOW YOU'RE CONFUSING ME!<strong>

**And what's this? A chapter within a week of the last update? WHAT IS THIS SORCERY, REEVEE? **

**BONUS NERD POINTS if you can pick out the reference to GAME FREAK Freya made, OR why I used Mewtwo as an example, OR when he has spoken before in-game, OR which company this "Harold" guy might be!**

**Thanks for reading the chapter, everybodyyy! Be sure to follow/favorite for more awesome action and character unveilings, leave a review for a possible mentioning! Nerd points aren't actually all that hard to earn!**

**Hug an Eevee, I'll see you next chapter!**


	8. Chapter 7: Who would win?

**AAAAAND, the bonus nerd points go to-DRUMROLL, PLEEEEASE...**

**Shrekus Christ (guest) and MissQuestions - The Amazing Nabu !**

**ALRIGHTY THEN, I'm half asleep and ready to post something before Wednesday, so here's Chapter Seven-OOO, ominous title!**

* * *

><p><strong>*\ ****_Chapter Seven: "Who would win?" _****/*\**

An irritated groan stirred Mewtwo from his rest.

It lifted an eyelid, annoyed at the sound-an outcry mostly dulled by patience and ingenuity. It came from outside the door, and if he were curious enough to find out what it was, Mewtwo would need to pass the watchful eyes of the creatures along the shelves.

It sat up from his resting place (a bed his size the girls had dug up out of storage) and walked to the edge of the desk, the morning sun casting rays on his back. "Peculiar," it mumbled to itself—or to the other creatures, "it's all so peculiar. How am I the only one lucky enough to be alive? Out of all of you…"

It looked around once more at the other Pokémon, helpless and dead inside.

"…why me?"

It could distinctly remember coming alive, a great pulse of energy that woke him from a long hibernation. Then Mewtwo was there, in the center of twelve others, and in turn under the four kid's watchful gazes. The one that woke him, Marco, had an amazed gaze on his face. His brother, Cress, had an excited and somewhat jealous look. Caitlyn was beaming warmly at him, while Freya's jaw looked ready to hit the floor.

As for the twelve, they were excited and amused and slightly puzzled at his presence among them. The ones known as Pikachu and Jigglypuff had approached him first, like he was a long-lost kin of theirs. Then Fox had quizzed it a little, what its name was, where it came from, etc., and it had answered perfectly—though it knew not how it knew.

…wait, what?

Freya was snoring on its right and Caitlyn was snuggling a toy to its left, so it found no reason not to delve into that odd groan from earlier.

It took a small leap off the desk edge and caught himself in midair with psychic. It levitated gently to the ground and walked down the clear path before him, like a movie star walking the red carpet. A while later it reached the door, and extended a hand to reach the handle with Psychic.

Psychic was like a hand, an invisible hand in his mind that one could stretch across distances or wreath around himself. It gave no hint to what it was lifting but a pink tint (and the shrieking of the victim, if it was alive) and the object bending or floating to his will.

It could barely reach far enough to twist the handle, but managed so and pried the door open a pinch. Mewtwo could manually open it enough to fit through from there, emerging into a hallway with doors on one side and a rail on the other. Past the rail, it could hear glass plates hitting marble countertops lightly when they were set. A sizzling of boiling grease and the mouthwatering scent of cooking meat also echoed through the raptors.

Since the groan wasn't showing up again, it took a peek through the rail bars to find out what it was. A larger human, older than the kids from last night, was bustling about several appliances and a table in order to set something up. Contact would be unwise, as Mario had warned him last night, so Mewtwo gave no hint to being overhead.

A lash of electricity, sparking and sizzling, sounded from inside the playroom door—quickly followed with an outcry of "Watch it!" and "Sorry!". Mewtwo whipped around to face the room in alarm. He approached and opened the door via Psychic cautiously, seeing Marco leaning over his desk and focusing on something.

"Good…morning," Mewtwo trailed, entering the room.

"Mornin'," Samus greeted casually, polishing his arm cannon with a rag.

"What is going on? I heard a shout," Mewtwo asked.

"Marco's experimenting with magic…it's going…averagely," Samus answered carefully, glaring at the desk with unease.

Meanwhile, on the desk, Marco was focusing on condensing a spark in his gloved hand. Captain Falcon had been watching, but was currently behind a cup of pencils in case the spark lashed again.

"Just think," Marco sighed wistfully, smiling slightly when he managed to form a small sphere of electricity above his palm, "if I could perfect this, maybe I could put some kind of protection-spell on you guys so you won't be killed by mice or something!"

"Well, we already killed all the mice," Captain Falcon shrugged, "but I can think of a lotta things that are out for blood."

"What?" Marco asked, jerking upwards and disrupting the sphere into small, flickering sparks.

"Other animals, sharp objects, poisons, incautious young children," the driver listed off his fingers, "we've had experience."

The door, previously forgotten, was shoved open again when Cress walked in with a casual "'Sup, dude? What's with all the shouting?"

"Morning, Cress," Marco greeted, getting up from his seat. "I was just working on sparking again, then it hit Captain Falcon."

"_Hit _me?! That thing ATTACKED me!" Captain Falcon growled from the desk.

"Well DUH, you're covered in metal!" Cress huffed before regaining his sloppy grin. "Hey, if you can do creative stuff with your glove…can I do destructive stuff with mine?"

Marco thought it over for a minute before grinning mischeviously. "You could try…." He winked before looking serious again. "I have an idea that might help; do you think I can try sparking some kind of…barrier around the smashers?"

"What? Like a wall?" Cress asked before gasping. "Dude! I never thought you were that cold!"

"No, I mean like a protection spell or something," Marco quickly dismissed. "So they don't get 'killed' by mice or whatever else that's out there."

"And I could fight them?" Cress enticed, letting Pikachu hop into his glove from the desk. "Just for fun, not to rip them apart or anything."

"I don't see why not," Marco shrugged.

"There you are, Mewtwo!" Freya called from the doorway before noticing the two brothers. "Hey, you guys ready for breakfast? And Harold's gonna be here any minute! Could we show him these guys? OOO, would he pass out or scream?!"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Marco backed up, knocking into the desk with his back in the process. "Hold on! We'll be down in a minute, I'll leave that choice to the smashers—"

"And he's totally gonna pass out," Cress added. "I know I did!"

"I'm betting on a scream," Freya shrugged.

"Hey, about that last one!" Mario called, scrambling onto Marco's desk. "Is this 'Harold' trustworthy?"

"Averagely," Marco shrugged. "He's a twelve-year-old cousin of ours. A cross between Cress and me; he's pretty idealistic, but enjoys a good fight now and then."

"Oh, you're a brawler?" Samus asked Cress.

"Just because I got into a fight one time," Cress sighed.

"You gave that guy a bloody nose," Marco rolled his eyes before turning back to Mario. Mario himself was in a philosopher position.

"I suppose we could let him in on us," he finally answered. "You teens seem to be pretty trustworthy, anyway."

"Hey, that's another thing," Freya conversed on their way down the steps, "why are all these movie and book characters teenagers? I've never seen ten-year-olds on screen!"

**/*\**

By the time the siblings reached the stairs, Caitlyn joining them halfway, they could hear their aunt's voice from the doorway. They looked on from behind the staircase, heads poking out in order of age, as the four adults conversed over sleeping arangements and the like.

"HEY GUYS WHAT'S SHAKIN'?!"

"AUGH!"

"OW!"

"OOF!"

A breathless wheeze from Caitlyn as Marco tripped in surprise, landing on the others in a rough pile. Cress blew the hair out of his face before looking up at the source of the shout, none other than a grinning Harold.

Harold was a bit shorter than the two glove-wielding brothers, sporting a head of hazel-brown hair parted down the center—three short, white streaks on the right side for some mysterious reason. He had a freckled face and a bit of a tan skin tone, though his current expression was an impish smile. His classic outfit, a yellow t-shirt bearing the scars of stains and pair of somewhat-torn, brown jeans.

"Harold!" Freya gasped happily when the siblings finally got back to their feet.

"In the flesh!" Harold nodded.

"It's been way to long, dude!" Cress greeted as the two preformed some variety of a handshake.

Marco shook his head with an amused chuckle. Their relatives were often located far, mainly because they had originally moved years ago. They were also commonly farmers or just plain residents of out-in-the-middle-of-nowhere, whilst their family of six lived in an average neighborhood. Even before the two twin sisters were born, Marco could distinctly remember fun gatherings with their cousins at holidays.

"And just wait 'till you see what the boys have!" Caitlyn sighed dreamily while Cress and Marco shared an alarmed look. "There are these toys, see, and—"

"AAAND, that must have been a long trip!" Cress smiled awkwardly while Marco clamped a hand over Caitlyn's mouth. "Hey, do you like bacon? Our mom made some this morning!"

"Yea, sure," Harold shrugged as they set off for breakfast. Marco stayed behind briefly with the two girls and muttered, "Not yet, alright? Maybe after dinner."

Caitlyn nodded and Freya shrugged.

Relieved that the secret was safe, Marco ran after the two while the girls swiftly followed. Besides, there was a lot of catching up to do; they could wait…hopefully.

**/*\**

The gentle wheezing of Kirby's breath while he snored adorably through the day was interrupted by shuffling outside the door. The drowsy puffball blinked awake, the last rays of sunlight sending warm waves through his back while he was slouched over in front of the window. His paddle feet were folded beneath him while his stubby arms were folded in front of him and being used as a pillow, so he got back up and looked about.

The others were going about their business in the room, some exploring, others training out of boredom. Currently, Fox and Samus were firing small blasts at established targets, said targets being paper tacked on the wall.

The noise behind the door got louder, though not too loud—it barely woke him up. Finally, the door was opened by an ecstatic Caitlyn as the kids entered the room—Marco and Cress keeping their hands on a third, unknown boy's eyes.

"Hey, gu—" Freya started before Caitlyn hushed her. This call alerted Fox as he turned his head away from the target, accidentally hitting Samus with his stray blast. His fabricated shoulder now had a circle burned into it, enraging him enough for him to stomp over to Fox and slap him upside the head.

"Alright, now what is it?" the boy asked. "Come on, guys, you said you had something here…"

"Oh, it's something alright…" Cress snickered.

"Just…don't freak on us, alright?" Marco pleaded.

"Yea yea, sure, now let me see!" he shouted softly.

The two boys let their hands drift from his eyes, and the first thing Harold saw was an intrigued Kirby that was floating in front of his face—mouth full of air and arms flapping like wings.

Harold's eyes widened in shock. "Th-th-there's…" he paused, breath taken by the living toy's reality. And by the stunned on his face, it wasn't going to return it anytime soon.

By then, Kirby had run out of air and started plummeting to the ground. Marco held his gloved hand out below the gob of puff, said fluffball landing with a tiny _thud—_a small, cartoonish star floated out from under it before disappearing into thin air.

"Harold? Hare?" Cress asked, leaning in front of his cousin. "Hare? ...Hare? You still with us, man? Do I get your stuff if you're dead?"

"OH MY GOSH WHOAAA!" Harold shrieked at last, jumping back a step. He was hushed by Freya, Mewtwo on shoulder and blankly staring at him. "You don't wanna wake up the parents!"

Harold paid little heed and continued looking around the room at the twelve assorted figures, stepping about a few steps to get closer or lean in. "You guys, this is awesome!" he chuckled lightly. "T-they're alive! How are they alive? What the heck are they, anyway? Fabricated skeletons?"

"S-slow down," Cress laughed a bit. "Jeesh, and I was the one who passed out!"

"How long have you had these?" he continued the question barrage, leaning over to look at Mario.

"Meh, maybe a week?" Freya shrugged. "I dunno; I was just introduced yesterday."

"Cress gave them to me first," Marco started as he plopped down on a low table. "They were limp and dead back then, like any other toy. Then I found this scroll in the box, and started ranting on about the backstories they had—like, Mario there is actually a plumber from Brooklyn!"

"Correct!" Mario perked, walking alongside Harold as he strolled to join Marco.

"They talk?" Harold asked, doing a double-take.

"Poyo!" Kirby confirmed.

"Then the next thing we know, they came to life and just started going about their ways. Well, then we had an incident with Fox and the house mice, then Freya and Caitlyn joined in, and that would lead up to you. Huh. Shorter story than I first thought."

"Maybe you shouldn't have been standing around in the first place!"

All attention was diverted to where Fox and Samus were bickering, one about his blemished armor, the other about the first standing in the way.

"You were the one who shot!" Samus accused. "Now I'm that much weaker because of your clumsiness!"

"So what?" Fox sniffed. "Nothing happens around here anyway, if anything, we'll die of old age. Good riddance of you first, too, Mr. don't-let-him-in-on-us!"

Samus visibly paused at the title before loading his cannon and aiming at Fox. "I will make you eat those words," he snarled behind the helm.

"Bring it," he hissed back.

"Hey, whoa!" Marco perked before things got ugly. "Let's not try to kill each other on the third day, please!"

They were too focused on each other to notice. Samus had a formadible ball of energy in front of his arm cannon by then, shooting it at Fox right as he pulled out his laser (the weapon that started the whole thing) and shot back at it.

The others turned away with cringes, expecting to hear fabric burning and dying screams, only to hear a short, rather pronounced sparking sound. They looked back to see Cress had flattened out in front of them, gloved hand in a gun posture. It was aimed at where the two energy sources _should _have collided, same as Samus and Fox's stunned gazes.

"…I worked out some destructive magic while you were eating," he explained, getting up and looking to the gaping others with a hopefull smile. "It's like negative and positive electricity or something—they each consume each other."

After a short pause, Marco sighed in relief. "Thank you, Cress," he said to his brother, "without that, I think we'd have only ten of these guys!"

Harold, meanwhile, was staring off into some unknown point in space.

"…Harold? Did we break you again? IT WASN'T ME!" Cress immediately piped.

"First off, I have one more reason to get back at you guys for not telling me magic—literal MAGIC—was involved," he started bluntly.

Yoshi giggled slightly at that, Samus and Fox taking the time to face away from each other in a grudge.

This next line that Harold uttered would set off the core of their game: the mainframe, the plot, everything the to-be-named entertainment would circle around was this creative, suggestive line spoken by a kid in a thinking mood. And it wasn't all that great of a line, one a grammar book would probably disapprove of. But we won't care, because this line was all it took to get the creative spirit, destructive spirit, and other various, helping spirits involved. The line was:

"If Samus and Fox were to get in a real fight, with energy balls and guns and whatever else you can use…who would win?"

No one knew what intelligence had been spoken right there, mainly because they themselves were pondering it themselves.

"Hmm…good question…" Marco thought outloud. "Samus has the advantage because of his armor-like suit, but Fox is quicker and a lot more flightly…gee, I don't know."

"Samus, obviously!" Freya huffed.

"Why Samus?" Caitlyn asked.

"'Cause he's a lot more awesome."

Fox growled under his breath. Again, a growing rivalry between the two!

"I…dun…no…" Cress finally uttered, looking dazed.

"…maybe…we could find out," Marco suggested with a gleeful smirk.

"What?" everyone in the room asked.

"We JUST BROKE THEM UP, do you want to get them brawling again?" Ness groaned.

"True, and we don't know Cress' limits yet," Luigi added, "he could tire out before we get halfway through!"

Link notably hummed in an agreeing tone. Caitlyn looked down to the warrior, sitting on her knee, and wondered if he ever _did_ speak.

"No, I don't mean right now—Samuuuuus, Fox, you should know better," Marco scolded before the two could fire at each other again. Samus discharged her power above her while Fox sheathed his gun with a 'hmph!'

Marco turned to the others with a light in his eyes. "I'd been working on that protection spell about half the night," he explained. "If I can use some kind of attack-delaying shield, they could fight and only tire, not die! The tension would weaken dramatically—plus, it might even be fun. Honing skills, finding whatever works and on who…it'd be like an arena or something!"

Another pensive pause.

"Well…some days, I have wanted to knock Donkey into oblivion," Mario shrugged. Donky Kong hooted agreeingly.

"We could find out which puffball is better!" Freya giggled, gesturing to Jigglypuff and Kirby.

"Samus and Fox would fine…eh…seventy-five percent of the time?" Ness thought before shrugging off thoughtfulness and putting Pride in its place. "And I could actually prove to you all how awesome a shield I have!"

"Suuuuuure, Ness," half the smashers groaned with an eye-roll.

Link looked to his sword, sheathed but ready to flip out at a moment's notice. He grinned manically.

"Alright, let's do it!" Harold summed, fist pumping into the air. "…tomorrow. I'm to tiered to do awesome stuff tonight."

"Like meeting living toys?"

"Yea…" a tiered yawn, "yea."

* * *

><p><strong>AND THUS, THE STORY TRULY BEGIIIIIINS! AWESOMENESS, AWAY!<strong>

**Let me just say, I've met a lot of people who have no clue where this story is going. True, it is confusing, so I guess I can't blame them…**

**Oh yea, almost forgot! BONUS NERD POINTS to whoever knows where Kirby's adorable sleeping pose came from, OR who can name Mario's actual, non-game origin...**

***Yawn*…it really is about 8:40 PM right now, I'm ready to join Harold and do awesome stuff in the morning…*Plops onto bed* SNAAAAAAAAAARRRRR…**

**Marth: *Coughs awkwardly***

***Jumps up* I'M AWAKE! Thanks again for reading, everybody! Be sure to click that follow/favorite button for more ****_smash_****ingly good stuff (BAD PUUUUN, I am so channeling my inner Pit right now), hug that Eevee like a true Eevee fan would, and I'll see you all next chapter! BYE FOR NOW!**

**…*****Plops onto bed again* SNAAAAAAAAAARRRRRR…**


	9. Chapter 8: Nintenna's Stories

**AAAAAAAND, the Bonus Nerd Points go to, DRUMROLLLLLLL...**

**The One Named Light****, ****PikaloverNYA****, and ****Shrekord Player ****(guest)!**

**EXTRA-BONUS NERD POINTS go to Ayako Zetra! DADADA DADA, DADADA DADA, DADADA DADA, DA, DO THE MARIO-SWING YOUR ARMS FROM SIDE TO SIDE, COME ON, IT'S TIME TO GO, DO THE MARIO! (Used to watch that show every Saturday morning...on Netflix, stop looking at me like I'm old!)**

* * *

><p><strong>*\ ****_Chapter Eight: Nintenna's Stories _****/*\**

The morning sun peeked through the playroom window and found that, exactly nine hours since they were last with the smashers, the kids were back at it again.

"Okay, so if we're going to be fighting," Harold summed, holding a clipboard and trying his best to look professional, "we're going to need somewhere to fight."

"Like a boxing ring?" Ness offered.

"Sure, but…I'm thinking something with more…_flare, _you know?" Harold tried to explain, spreading his open hands dramatically with the board under one arm. "Like you guys. A lot of different characters need a lot of different arenas, am I right?"

"Then we're going to need a LOT of inspiration," Freya noted to herself. "Hmmm…hey Link, you come from medieval times, right?"

Link nodded.

"And Samus looks pretty high-tech, so I guess he's from the future or something," she continued. "But then there's guys like Mario and Luigi, who look like they're from around the same time…"

"We also have the same symbol, if you haven't noticed," Mario perked.

"Symbol? What symbol?" Harold asked.

"This…symbol!" Mario answered, balancing on one foot to show the mushroom-headed symbol embroidered in his boot. He promptly fell over with an "Oof!" after his top-heavy body got the best of him.

"And this," Luigi noted, bending a knee to do the same. "It's a brand or something, I can't exactly remember."

"Do you all have the same symbol?" Caitlyn asked, plopping down next to Pikachu. The mouse trotted over to her and rubbed against her side, making sparks fly on her funky denim jeans.

"No, it just depends," Samus answered. "Pikachu and Jigglypuff have the same symbol, but the rest of us have others."

"Cool!" Harold smiled. "That would be—one, two, three, four—ten different stages at the least. But who says we can't add extras?"

Meanwhile, on Marco's desk, the two gloved brothers were experimenting with Yoshi. The toy was the only that volunteered out of the twelve, mainly because Captain Falcon's words about Marco's last sparking experiment passed like the spark itself to the others.

"I don't think working on about shields would work, unless you want Link's shield to start talking," Cress joked.

Marco chuckled a little at that. "Yea, if this goes well, he'll be needing that for defense," he noted humorously. "Hmm…I still don't know much about your backstory, ya know," he threw to Yoshi experimentally. "Maybe if I can find out more of your history?"

Yoshi hummed to himself over where to start. He tried speaking to them in his language, only for two blank stares to meet his words.

"…of course, we get some of the only non-speaking ones," Cress face-palmed.

"Uh, try…actions?" Marco asked.

Yoshi nodded and glanced around before spotting an old sketch of an island map. He ran to it and tapped a finger against it.

"So, you come from an island," Marco noted.

Yoshi nodded before going on to the next act; pointing to himself, then holding up his fingers in a vague large number.

"Are there a lot of you?" Cress guessed.

Another nod.

"So, it's like a Yoshi Island? That is your species, right?" Marco asked.

Yoshi bobbed excitably before looking to Marco's hand with a "Whoa!"

Marco looked to his right hand and saw a sparking ball starting to form. "Okay, that's weird," he mumbled.

"So, you come from an island called Yoshi's Island, where there are a lot of dinosaurs just like you," Cress added up the info. "Are they like animals, or is it some sort of tribe?"

Yoshi shook his head no, then yes.

"Err…alright, is it a tribe?"

Yes.

"And what are you in the tribe? Like, your rank or something."

Yoshi darted off into one of the various scrap piles before coming back out with a small collection of feathers. Grouping them all together and straightening them so they all pointed forward, he set it over his head.

"You're a chief?!" Cress gasped. He turned to his brother in panic. "Marco! Do you realize we have a chief in our midst?"

"Hm?" he asked, looking up. "Oh. No, I didn't."

"What the heck is that, anyway?" Cress looked over to see the green spark. It had gotten to be the size of a golf ball by now, and much more stable than it was moments before.

"I'm not entirely sure, because this whole thing is still new to me," Marco answered, lifting it up slightly, "but I think it might be some kind of permanent spark? It just kept growing when Yoshi was telling us."

"So that's the shield-thing you were thinking of?" Cress lead.

"I guess."

"For Yoshi?"

"Apparently."

"…should we YOLO it?"

"Are you crazy? What if it ends up killing him?!" Marco gasped, whipping his head fully forward on his brother.

Yoshi spoke up with a "Hey!" The two looked over to see that he was stepping close to it, like he was attracted to it. No one could hear from his view, but it was slightly humming in a theme to him. The dinosaur looked up at the two and put a hand over his heart, nodding quickly.

"You'll…you'll do it?" Marco blinked. "Are you sure?"

Yoshi nodded solemnly.

"Wow…" Marco breathed. "Taking a risk for the good of others…you're either very, very brave or just very, very stupid."

"I would go with that first one if I were you," Cress coughed.

Marco rolled his eyes before aiming at Yoshi and flicking the spark-ball to it with his spare hand. It shot right into Yoshi, the area casting a blinding white around itself and the dinosaur. The two covered their eyes with a hand or two, their mild shouts of surprise catching the attention of the others.

"Hey! What's that over there?" Captain Falcon asked, squinting through his blinder at the light where Yoshi was.

The light faded away a few seconds later, revealing Yoshi. But not much like what he was before; his stuffing had turned to flesh, his felt-made skin morphed into real scales, eyes moist and blinking unlike the wide stare he had before, stitches missing because there was no longer a need for them.

Yoshi himself lifted a hand to gaze on it, turned his head and shook the non-stiff tail, before finally jumping out in joy with a pleased noise. He circled several times before plopping down back in front of Marco and Cress.

"Dude!" Cress gasped. "Oh my gosh! Y-you just—it just—we made Yoshi r_eal!"_

Marco, meanwhile, looked exhausted. "Man, I feel like I just ran a marathon," he yawned. "I guess those sparks take a lot more than brain-juice…at least we found a way to preserve you guys, right?"

"Whoa!" Freya gasped after the three and the other smashers made their way over. "It's _sorcery!"_

"Yoshi, bud!" Mario called out, running over.

Yoshi turned to look at him, moments before his jaw shot open and a long, wet, pink tongue licked the plumber upside the chin. "Yoshiiiii!" Yoshi cheered while Mario picked himself back up for the second time that day.

**/*\**

It was a true blessing that fall break had arrived the day before, not just because Marco ended up collapsing on his bed in full-on unconsciousness, but because it gave the others time to plan their game.

Harold's clipboard paper was now etched with eight different symbols, one of each smasher's individual or shared symbols. Each also had the names of their owner(s) next to it, the result of an interesting few facts on their full names. "Luigi Mario"? Seriously?

"What can we call these, anyway?" Cress asked, tapping one of the symbols—Ness', the absolute pain to draw. "I mean, we can't just keep saying 'Mario and Luigi's' when we need to refer to that brand as whole. And they've got to mean something, right?"

"Hmm…names…" Freya's eyes glinted as deviously as Cress'. "Names…"

"…Caitlyn? Elaborate, please," Mewtwo asked.

"Whenever we make our monsters, Freya usually names them," the sibling explained. "She's pretty good at them, too; Bulbasaur, Charizard, Eevee…it's like she studies or something."

"I DO study them, thanks for noticing!" Freya giggled mischievously. "Anyways, uh, Mario and Luigi have the same last names, right? Why don't we just call that Mario Bros.?"

"Hmm…fair enough," Luigi shrugged. "But what about the others?"

"Link is from ancient times, right? Maybe his could be legend of Link?" Caitlyn suggested hopefully.

"The initials would be LOL," Cress deadpanned.

"Oh…that…that wouldn't work."

"Hey Link, don't you have something to do with a girl named Zelda?" Fox prodded.

Link nodded simply.

"Is she important? A little bird told me she was the princess of your land."

Link thought for a moment before nodding this time. It felt a little embarrassing for Fox to know more of his legend than he did, but that was a very complicated story…it took Nintenna half the night to explain it the first time around.

"AHA! Legend of Zelda!" Freya declared, startling them. "Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"Hey," Harold noted, "if we're talking about royalty, why not something like a Hyrule Castle stage? There'd be platforms, and a castle background, I'm thinking sort of a balcony feel?"

"Sounds good to me!" Cress agreed. "But it would be kind of unfair if just Link got a stage, right? We should probably give the others one, too."

"What do you mean?"

"So, like, the Mario Bros could have some sort of mushroom kingdom stage," Cress explained. "Fox's could be his starship-thing—"

"I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW IT'S CALLED THE GREAT FOX!"

"—and there could be some kind of Pokémon battle stage for Pikachu and Jigglypuff," he continued.

"Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa, whoa," Freya interrupted, waving her hands in dismissal. "Those two aren't ours! We only created Mewtwo!"

"But did you see their symbol?" Cress argued. "It looks just like one of those Pokeballs you two rant about so much!"

"It does?" Caitlyn asked. Harold lent her the clipboard for evidence. "It does, doesn't it?" she giggled. "And…Freya, maybe they are Pokémon? Pikachu looks like an electric type to me…"

"…FIIIIINE, we'll accept them," Freya stated grudgingly, though secretly hiding the fact that Pikachu would be a great Pokémon mascot.

**/*\**

"It's rather nice of you to be doing this for him, you know," Ness spoke up.

"It's the least I could do," Freya shrugged.

The laptop's gentle purr was an assuring sound to her while the darkness of night shadowed every creepy corner and scary corridor of the house. Then, of course, there was Ness at her side to keep her company; his strange skills were a much-defined weapon against the dark forces of the world (or mice, anyway).

Which brought her to why she was there in the first place, at the late curfew of 10:00 PM or so, sitting on her bed with Ness perched on her knee and a laptop at the ready. She was still curious of the backgrounds of the toys, especially since several times during their conversation one or the other had brought up 'story' details. She never did get to ask what they were, the rapid-fire onslaught of ideas from her mind reaching her mouth faster than the question.

So she had taken to "interviewing" each one over their own personal story. First off, the only other being up at the unholy hour, was Ness.

"Now, mine's pretty long, so don't fall asleep on me, 'kay?" Ness warned.

"Sure thing. Hey, where do you get these stories? Marco and Cress say they came on a little scrap of paper, though they don't know much from it…"

"Well…the funny thing is, you weren't the first to spark us," Ness explained. "A long time ago—forty years, apparently—we were first created in this one jungle village."

"As toys?"

"Yes and no. Our literal fabric is this special kind of material that holds a spark, so we were never _just_ toys. 'Destined for something greater' is what I prefer."

"'kay."

"And this one girl in the village, Nintenna…" Ness sighed in memory at her name. "She…her father was the one who originally created us. He gave us to her, explaining the whole spark dealio and what-not, and she had sparked us by the end of the day. Girl was smart.

"She wrote up these long, long backstories for us that she would explain not just so we could understand who we really were and why we were like how we were, but because she was an absolute fanatic at stories of fantasy. She had dozens of others besides what she actually told us, all written to the last detail."

"What happened to her?" Freya asked, opening a new document on the computer for writing. "Or to you, I guess? How did you get separated? We don't have any jungles even close to where we are…"

"There was this outbreak in the town," Ness started…a little bit heartbroken, as evident of his tone. "A sickness outbreak. None of them knew what it was, couldn't cure it, anything. Nintenna's mother died of it."

Freya put a hand to her mouth in a gasp.

"Eventually, some out-of-region sailors came by with a cure. They said they would gladly give it to the village, but they had come from far away and it would cost them to get back. The village, naturally, came to a consensus that something needed to be traded to them…"

"And…that was you, wasn't it?" Freya concluded.

"Yep. Now, forty years later, we're with you and we have no clue why," Ness shrugged. How he took something so serious and let it go like a summer breeze, she didn't know. "But enough of the heartbreak—you probably want to hear about me, right?"

"Heck yea! Where does your story start?"

"In an ordinary, modern town where a meteorite crashes into the hill…don't look at me like that, it only gets weirder."

* * *

><p><strong>Please, Freya. If you want to get creeped out, go hang out on the <strong>**_Mother_**** Wiki for a few hours.**

**In other news… (Nintenna's story) ;-; DAT FEEL.**

**And OF COURSE I inject some of my personal comedy into the boring explanations! IT'S LIKE CAPTAIN AMERICA THAT WAY! That, and I'm already stockpiling for the Melee arch that you all are going to be hunting me down for since I'm going to viciously murder the Melee-only fighters…****_again. YES, AGAIN. _****Remember 'A Smasher's World'? I do. Mewtwo is ignoring me for it.**

**BONUS NERD POINTS to anyone who remotely gets Ness' last line, OR Yoshi's tale of epic proportions on an island, OR why Fox shouted that it's called the Great Fox!**

**Thank you all for reading! I love you now for reading, I'd love you even more if you hit that follow/favorite button and leave a review on your way out!**


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